


Something Wonderful in You

by ajremix



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ajremix/pseuds/ajremix
Summary: Bedknobs and Broomsticks inspired AU.  Mick Rory was planning on going on a manhunt for a missing spell.  Then he got saddled with three children evacuated from London.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Brain: Hey, you know what would be a quick, silly little fic? Bedknobs and Broomsticks inspired ColdWave!  
> Still My Brain: Also it's going to be over 20K long.
> 
> Because this turned out about ten times the length I was expecting, minimal research was done so please ignore anachronistic slang, phrases or the fact I didn't look up what items were rationed during WWII-era England. Title from The Age of Not Believing from the movie.

Mick stared down at the three children he had literally just been put in charge of. The oldest two- they were all presumably different ages -stared back, greatly unimpressed, while the youngest looked at him with wide, unreadable eyes. "Well fuck me," Mick said bluntly.  
  
The youngest tugged on the sleeve of the older boy who, without removing his still unimpressed gaze from Mick, bent down so something could be whispered in his ear. The older boy straightened, expression managing to get even flatter as he signed something in response. Mick blinked, uncomprehending, before remembering his knowledge of sign language came from prison which was most likely not where the kid learned. "What?"  
  
"Hartley doesn't know what 'fuck' means," he said dryly. "I told him it's an adult word."  
  
"Okay." Mick looked over the kids' heads toward his packed and waiting car. The three of them were all standing on the stoop where the director of Pepperinge Eye's War Activities Committee had dropped them off. Apparently Mick's mentor had volunteered the extra rooms in her cottage for any evacuated children. Then Miss Price took on a teaching position elsewhere, leaving her in-no-way-capable-of-caring-for-children apprentice to foot her obligations.  
  
Shit, he was going to have to push back his roadtrip now. Though really, leaving three kids on their own couldn't be any worse than leaving them with an arsonist and criminal, right? He could afford to lose a day... "Alright, you give me a list, I'll buy you a week's worth of groceries. I should be back before it's gone." Maybe.  
  
The two oldest blinked owlishly. "Where are you going?" Asked the girl.  
  
"Gotta find a guy squelching on a deal. You can take care of yourselves, right?"  
  
"Sure," the boy said automatically.  
  
"Mark!"  
  
"What?" He puffed his chest out. "I can do it!"  
  
"You're only eleven!"  
  
"So?" Both Mark and Mick asked. The girl whirled on Mick.  
  
"You can't leave us on our own!"  
  
"Why not? You'll have a house." Which was more than Mick had after his hometown had run him out.  
  
"That's child... endangerment," she said the last word slowly, facing scrunched up like she was sounding it out from an imaginary book. "We could get hurt with you gone!"  
  
"And you could get hurt with me here so what's the difference?"  
  
"Let him go, Shawna. He already said he's useless," the boy said imperiously.  
  
Mick rolled his eyes. He didn't know much about kids but apparently he'd been stuck with a know-it-all brat. "You gonna make a list or not? I'm not gonna be here to watch you starve so I won't really care."  
  
"Are you gonna get out of our way so we can put our things down?"  
  
Jaw twitching, Mick grudgingly stepped aside. Just one night and then he was gone in the morning. He could do this.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Mick had given them the briefest of tours of the cottage- he stood at the foot of the stairs and pointed out their room, the bathroom and the kitchen -before saying, "I'm leaving to pick up food in half an hour, with or without your list." They'd just gone straight for the kitchen to see what was there- basically nothing since he wasn't going to leave food to waste while he was gone -and got him the list within fifteen minutes.  
  
He'd left almost immediately after and the children put their things away before deciding to explore the house. It wasn't all that big but there were some oddities about- weird looking things pickling in jars, labeled containers of random items like chalk, salt crystals and twine, books filled with words that weren't quite English. As they explored, Shawna asked, "Why are you so eager for Mick to leave?" It was weird calling an adult by his first name but Mick had been very firm on not being 'Mr. Rory'.  
  
"You really think he's going to be good for us? He doesn't want us here!"  
  
"This place smells funny," Hartley added, his voice slightly too loud.  
  
"That's not the real reason." Shawna put her hands on her hips, staring Mark down. "So what is it?"  
  
They glared at each other, a test of wills that Shawna won, just like always. "I'm going back to London," Mark said decisively. "I want to make sure Clyde's okay."  
  
"That's a million miles away!" Shawna exclaimed. "How are you going to get there?"  
  
"We got here by train, I can get back the same way."  
  
"And how are you gonna get on a train without money?"  
  
"I'm looking to see if he's got any stashed around."  
  
"Look!" Hartley said, his voice partially muffled as he was behind a decorative blanket turned wall tapestry. "There's a door!"  
  
Mark gave Shawna a smug smile. "Bet that's where he keeps his money."  
  
"He's not going to have a treasure room!" She followed him to Hartley anyway. The door wasn't that difficult to get through- certainly not if Mick was keeping something like money behind it -but it took some doing for the children to get all the latches undone.  
  
The room was fairly small, like a workshop just slightly larger than a closet but small enough most people wouldn't suspect there was a hidden room. Mark found an electric lamp nearby and turned it on. The room was full of... things. Random things- sticks, a horn, tinted glasses, wooden animal figures, a mirror, a couple of different types of toys. Hartley went straight to the chair set up at the workstation, clamoring up it and looking at the tools laid out- paintbrushes, chisels, the tiniest screwdrivers any of them ever saw. There were some papers pinned up with diagrams, each depicting an item that sat nearby and messily scrawled with the same kind of not-quite-coherent words the books had been.  
  
Shawna picked up a feather, a shimmering green-blue thing that must have come from a magpie's tail. She held it up to the light and admired the colors, thinking about how the colors of Hartley's mother's pearls danced just like that. It reminded her about a news article she heard people talking about- a robbery of the biggest set pearl in the world, having been brought to London for display. She'd studied the photo in the paper for hours, the giant brooch rimmed with intricately laid out pinprick diamonds and further encircled by larger diamond cubes. It didn't have the same colorful shimmer the inside of a shell her father had gotten for her once, but Shawna still thought it was beautiful. She wondered whatever happened to the brooch, picturing it in her head.  
  
Then everything went black.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
When Mick got back, Mark was tearing around the house screaming Shawna's name and Hartley sat on the couch, wailing loudly. Neither seemed to notice Mick's return as he put his bags in the kitchen before going to the couch and poking Hartley's shoulder. Once the young boy was peering at him with blurry, red-rimmed eyes, Mick said as he signed slowly, "What happened?"  
  
Abruptly Hartley stopped crying. "You know how to sign?" He sniffled.  
  
"A little. Really little." And he wasn't going to explain more than that. "What happened?"  
  
"Shawna..." he hiccuped and sobs started hitching his words again, "Shawna disappeared!"  
  
Well fuck. He hadn't even left yet and already the brats were getting into trouble. Mick turned to track down Mark for a hopefully more coherent story and noticed the door to his workroom was open. Double fuck. When Mark raced by again, Mick grabbed him by the arm, perhaps a little rougher than he intended. " _What happened_?" He growled.  
  
"Shawna's gone!" The boy blurted out.  
  
"I know that! How?"  
  
"I don't know!" Mark's eyes were beginning to well up as well and Mick did  _not_  need two crying children on his hands. "Me and Hartley were looking at the papers in the secret room and I turned to ask her what she thought they said and she was gone and I can hear her calling my name but I can't find her!"  
  
Dropping his hold on Mark, Mick strode into the workroom. He didn't have the best memory but he knew the things he worked on enough to know if anything was moved or missing. Sure enough, the magpie feather with the teleportation spell inscribed onto it was gone. "You said you could hear her?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Then she was still in the house. "Shawna!" He bellowed out. "Shawna, answer me!"  
  
"You can hear her better out by the garden!" Mark said, taking Mick's hand and leading the way. Hartley followed after, the two talking too fast for him to read.  
  
When Mick called for Shawna again, he heard a faint but audible "Mick?"  
  
Oh hell, he had a sinking suspicion he knew where she was. These kids just get into  _everything_. "Shawna!"  
  
"Mick, I-I don't know where I am! I'm scared!"  
  
"Hang on, kid, I'm coming!" Mick went over to the shady little area, blocked on one side by the house, another by a thicket of trees growing around the garden and the other two by the brick wall lining the yard. He touched one of the stones bordering the fennel plants. It glowed briefly, a faint flash, and Mick dug his fingers into the ground, pulling up a square of sod and grass attached to a plank of wood. He peered into the hole and Shawna's tear-streaked face was turned up toward him. "C'mon," he said, holding out a hand. "Come on out."  
  
Now that she had light, Shawna could see a ladder built into the side and climbed up until she could reach Mick's hand. He pulled her straight out the rest of the way. Shawna's feet were barely on the ground before Mark and Hartley barreled into her, crying and hugging and talking over each other.  
  
After a few moments they began to settle down, Shawna sitting down with Hartley all but curled up on her lap. Mark stood back, scrubbing at his eyes like he was too old to have emotions. Mick, leaning back on his palms, asked, "You still got the feather?"  
  
"Oh! I... I think I dropped it. Sorry." She hid her face in Hartley's hair. "I didn't know what to do. I panicked."  
  
"Yeah, well. You're young. It happens." Wasn't like he had far to retrieve it and even if was lost it wasn't impossible or even horrendously difficult to make a new one. As Mick went down into the hole, the children peered down, wondering what was in there.  
  
Their eyes went  _huge_. " _Wow_!" Hartley cried out.  
  
Mick whirled and glared up at them. " _Quiet_!"  
  
Shawna cupped a hand over Hartley's mouth though neither she nor Mark stopped ogling the treasure hidden down there. "Where did all this come from?" She asked. Something caught her eye and she pointed. "Where did you get that brooch?"  
  
Fishing the feather out from the stacks of items, Mick eyed her suspiciously. "How do you know about that brooch?"  
  
"I heard about it being stolen."  
  
"Did  _you_  steal it?" Mark asked, looking more awed than anything else.  
  
He sighed. Guess there wasn't much of a point lying about it. The kids had no one to tell and by the time anyone would be able to come around to check their story, Mick would have ample time to hide the stash somewhere else. "And what if I did?"  
  
That seemed to stump the kids who looked at each other and discussed briefly in sign. Hartley called down, pointing at the feather, "Is that magic? Did you steal all this with magic?"  
  
Mick narrowed his eyes, wondering if he should be more worried about them blabbing about  _that_. "Again- so?"  
  
They still seemed stumped. "Well... that's fantastic."  
  
He snorted. "Yeah, I guess." He started up the ladder when Mark spoke up in that imperious tone of his.  
  
"That's probably not something you want getting out, do you? I suppose we could be persuaded to keep quiet..."  
  
Shawna whipped her head around to look aghast at Mark- Hartley looked back at them confused, having missed what was said. Mick growled- merely a show of anger, he was actually pretty amused by the- rather stupid -attempt at extortion. He hauled himself out of the ground, reminding the boy that Mick was a very large, very strong and very intimidating looking man. "Are you trying to blackmail me?" His voice was like gravel being ground into powder.  
  
Shawna grabbed Hartley protectively, hovering awkwardly by Mark's shoulder in an attempt to be supportive but also not wanting to get into this. Mark's face went pale and his eyes wide. When his hands started shaking, Mick took pity on him. "Fine." He thrust the feather in Shawna's direction. "Never got it to work myself anyway."  
  
She stared at it and Mick had to give the feather a little shake to prompt Shawna to take it numbly. Mark immediately snapped back into brat mode. "Wait- is she the only one getting something?"  
  
By that point, Mick had closed the hole and reset the magic lock. The edges of the panel flared briefly and when it was gone, the lawn was seamless. "You didn't say I needed to give you more than one item. Gotta make your deals specific if you don't wanna get screwed over." He nodded at Shawna. "I'll explain how to use that after dinner and you can practice some. Folks don't usually come out this way so we won't have to worry about getting caught."  
  
She beamed, dark eyes dancing with excitement. "Okay!"  
  
Hartley reached out and tugged on Mick's shirt. Once he had the man's attention, Hartley put on his best sweet angel face. "Can I get something, too?"  
  
Mick stared down at him, eyes slowly drifting towards his ears, an idea forming in his head that was the right amount of challenging to make Mick's hands twitch. "Any of you know how to cook?" They shook their heads. Of course not. "Alright- we'll have to move the lesson and practice to tomorrow before I leave. It's gonna take a while for me to come up with something for you."  
  
Hartley and Shawna gave him twin eager grins while Mark crossed his arms and scowled.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Dinner was a simple affair of bangers and mash and a basic salad because you brats need to eat your damn vegetables. The entire time the children kept peppering Mick with questions- When did you get into magic? How did you find out you could do it? Can anyone learn? Why did you start stealing? Why do you live in such a small house when you have all that money? It took Mick all of five minutes to shut down their questions- Miss Price, my mentor, found me wandering some years back and took me in. Always liked fire, then I burned down my family's farm when I was ten. Miss Price said doing magic is part talent, part belief so probably. Because I got kicked out of my hometown. Because I only use my stash so I don't have to actually work and I like it here.  
  
Instead he turned it on them, "What about you three? How do you know each other?"  
  
"Our parents work for Hartley's parents," Shawna said around a big mouthful of potatoes. "His parents are big and important but I don't know what they do. They say they're old money, whatever that is."  
  
"Means someone in their family a long time ago is the one that made their money and made 'em important."  
  
"Oh. Well, our parents work at their house. My mom does their laundry and cleaning and my dad does the garden. Mark's dad drives them places and his mom gives us our lessons and looks after us."  
  
Mick eyed the way Mark occasionally stopped eating to sign what was being said to Hartley. "If they're so rich and important, how come they ain't got him a hearing aid?"  
  
Abruptly the other two children scowled darkly. "They don't like admitting Hartley's deaf," Mark all but spat out. "They won't learn sign language, they brought in special teachers to make him speak properly and learn how to read lips but they don't always look him in the face when they talk to him anyway. They're bastards."  
  
"Mark!" Shawna said, scandalized.  
  
"Mick doesn't care if I call 'em bastards, right?"  
  
He leaned back, tone mild and eyebrows raised. "If they're bastards, they're bastards. You don't think they are?" He asked Shawna neutrally.  
  
"I... they... they're okay, they just..." her mouth cinched shut and her eyes hardened, obviously remembering something enraging. "They're bastards!"  
  
Mick laughed loudly. "I know things are different around  _respectable_  people, but I don't have the patience for playing nice. Something pisses you off, feel free to say it." He leaned forward on an elbow towards Hartley as Mark finished translating for him. "What about you?" He enunciated carefully. "How do you feel about your parents?"  
  
Hartley's face set in determination. He ran from the table, up the stairs and into the kids' room. Mick looked at the other two who looked just as confused. It didn't take long for Hartley to run back down, something clutched to his chest and went over to Mick, his cheeks flushed slightly and eyes bright. He held the item out and Mick took it in one hand, holding it up. "A flute?"  
  
Mark and Shawna gasped. "My mother taught me and Shawna music," the boy mumbled. "Hartley'd watch us and she taught him how to play a couple instruments."  
  
"He knows how to play it!" Shawna said excitedly. "He knows all the fingering and how to read music he's just... not really good because he doesn't know how his breathing effects the sound."  
  
Mick grunted. "So his parents hated it and wanted him to stop, right?" He didn't need to look to know the answer. He passed the flute back. "You wanna play, I ain't gonna stop you. But not tonight. I got something to do and you three are going to bed after you clean up the dishes."  
  
They cried out, "We have to clean?"  
  
"I made dinner, you clean. Sounds like a fair deal to me."  
  
They grumbled a little but couldn't argue with that logic.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The next morning, Mick woke the kids up for breakfast and, while Shawna and Mark cleaned up afterward, he sat Hartley on a stool and fiddled with something around the boy's head. The other two kept a sidelong eye on the proceedings, recalling that- despite having learned two big secrets about him the previous night -Mick was still very much a stranger. After a good five minutes or so, Mick stepped back, tilting his head from side to side like he was analyzing something. Hartley sat, stock still, back to the kitchen.  
  
"So?" Mick asked quietly. "How is it?"  
  
Hartley slowly lifted his head. He abruptly turned to look at Shawna and Mark and they could see something cupped over his ear, almost like an earmuff. Shawna set the plate she was holding down with a clink so she could sign at him, 'Are you okay?'  
  
His eyes darted to the plate. "I heard that," he said, so quietly it was almost lost under the running water.  
  
Mark shut it off with a twist. "What?"  
  
"I heard that!" His breath was coming faster, starting to bounce in his seat and face breaking into a huge smile. "I heard everything!" They ran over as Hartley began babbling and crying, asking them to say something, wanting to hear their voices so badly. They didn't know what to say other than his name, over and over again and how happy they were for him.  
  
Mick shifted, uncomfortable with all the emotion but the floorboard creaked as he tried to make his escape, catching Hartley's attention. Damn- might've made it a little too sensitive. "Mick!" Tears and snot were streaming down his face but Hartley was still beaming through it. "Thank you!"  
  
"Is this," Mark asked, pointing at the earmuff, "because of magic?"  
  
He shrugged, still uncomfortable with all the emotion and now the absolute gratitude being turned on him. "Miss Price used a spell to talk to deaf people, I just inscribed it on the thing- wasn't actually sure it would work. Enchanting's just about the only magic I'm any good at." Asides from lighting his hands on fire though that came so easily to him sometimes the hard part was to keep it from happening.  
  
And he was never,  _ever_  going to recount the utter failure that was his attempts to ride a broom.  
  
Hartley was looking up at him in total awe. "...What?"  
  
"Your voice," he breathed, "it's so... um." He looked at the other two, unable to figure out what word he should use.  
  
"Deep?" Mark asked. He dropped his voice as low as it could go and just sounded comical. "It's all low and gravelly and stuff, right?" Hartley laughed which probably wasn't the reaction Mark was going for.  
  
The younger boy gasped suddenly. "My flute! I can hear my flute now!" He zipped for the stairs.  
  
"I'm gonna go and remind him about breathing technique." Mark said quickly before racing off after.  
  
"And I think that's our cue to go outside and practice." Mick flicked lightly at the feather that Shawna had used a barrette to clip to her hair. Now that she didn't have the Rathaways imposing their ideas of 'presentable' on her, she let her curls fall loose, framing her face instead of being pulled back in a severe ponytail.  
  
Shawna beamed and hooked her hand in his. Mick stared at it for a moment. "Uh, okay." Figuring it best to just let it be, he lead her out.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
If Mick wasn't so impressed he'd be jealous at the ease in which Shawna took to the feather. Miss Price had told him that teleportation spells required being able to picture a location clearly in his mind which was difficult for Mick given his thought process was abstract and instinct-based. He'd made the feather in hopes having something to hold would be easier than trying to focus on both the destination and spell in his head but even when he was looking directly at the place he wanted to go, he never got it to work. He'd enchanted five feathers before deciding it wasn't a mistake in binding, he just wasn't able to do it.  
  
But Shawna, when Mick had taken her out, explained how it was supposed to work and then pointed at a tree as a test, she'd teleported there almost before he'd finished his instructions. She turned back to him and gave the biggest, proudest smile Mick had ever seen and the next thing he knew, she reappeared next to him and was giving him a hug.  
  
"This is amazing! I'm actually doing magic! What else should I try? The other end of the house? Oh, maybe the garden!" She held the feather in front of her and shut her eyes. Mick grabbed her by the shoulders, mouth opening around the word 'wait' when it felt like everything was wrenched sideways, the world blurring passed Mick's vision like he was moving at superspeed before it stopped with a jolt. Disoriented and knees not knowing what the hell was going on, Mick stumbled into what he belatedly recognized as his herb garden.  
  
Beyond his mind trying to scramble sense together, he heard Shawna clapping. "I did it! I didn't know I could bring people! ...are you okay?"  
  
He gave a pitiful, half-hearted glare to the girl. "You don't feel dizzy using it?"  
  
"No. Maybe because I'm holding the feather?" She looked at the item and Mick could see wheels turning in her head. "I wonder how far it can go."  
  
His hand shot out and latched on to Shawna again, bracing himself for a world of suck.  
  
He'd shut his eyes to the blur but the dizziness swept through him strong enough that, when they came to a stop, Mick actually fell over onto a plush rug and polished floor. Shawna gasped and Mick groaned, trying to get his hands or elbows under him. A hand tugged at his shirt. "We're here!" She said in a hushed voice. "This is Hartley's house!"  
  
Blearily Mick's eyes opened. He was in the hall of an immaculate house, the kind that had pastoral paintings on the walls and tiny stands useful for only holding up fancy vases and flower arrangements. Embroidered curtains went from ceiling to floor, likely covering equally huge windows but they were all drawn to keep the illusion of peace and civility. It was the kind of house Mick would've been tempted to break into before Miss Price took him in and he- quietly -set his sights higher.  
  
"Great. Wonderful." He grabbed Shawna's wrist. "Get us back to my place."  
  
"But... my mom and dad are still here."  
  
"And you think they won't be wondering how and why you're here? Alone? With some strange, suspicious looking man?"  
  
"That's... a good point." Though now that she was here she  _could_  get that pretty, floral hat Mrs. Mardon had gotten her for her birthday that Shawna hadn't had a chance to wear yet. It looked like something a young woman would wear instead of the- nice, but childish -printed bonnets she had. Mick must've noticed her contemplative look because his grip tightened, though not enough to hurt, and he opened his mouth-  
  
The rhythmic clicking of heels cut him off and a voice was calling for someone down the hall. The last syllable rose up sharply, almost shrill- the way Hartley's mother's did when she was displeased and Shawna froze. The steps were approaching fast and about half a dozen worst case scenarios whirled through Shawna's mind if they were caught- Mick getting arrested, Mrs. Rathaway throwing out the feather, Mick trying to escape and getting hurt, Mick taking the feather leaving Shawna here on her own. All of them ending with Shawna never seeing Mark or Hartley again.  
  
"Get us out of here!" Mick hissed, crouched low as the clicking sped up, followed closely by the growing voice, "I can hear you, you know! Don't pretend you can't hear me calling for you, Samuel!"  
  
The thought of never being with her best friends again shook Shawna so much that, when she closed her eyes, she couldn't get a clear image of Mick's cottage in her mind, only a vague impression. She tried and tried, the panic building up and desperation to see the boys growing so much all she could do was picture them.  
  
Shawna and Mick crashed to the floor, a noisy, cut off shriek making her cup her ears.  
  
"What in the world- how did you do that?"  
  
That wasn't Mrs. Rathaway's voice- that was Mark's!  
  
"We're back!" Shawna struggled out from under a thick arm so she could pull Mark and Hartley- his flute briefly jabbing her in the ribs before he moved it aside -into a hug. "I thought Mick was going to go to jail!"  
  
"Why would he go to jail?" Mark asked, utterly bewildered.  
  
"Is Mick gonna throw up?" Hartley asked, part fascinated and part worried at the man groaning on the floor. Mick reached out a hand to the bed- they were in the room the kids took over -and pulled down a pillow and the blanket folded on top of the covers. He just pulled the blanket over his head and the pillow disappeared beneath it. Mick groaned so fully they could feel it vibrating the floorboards.  
  
"That was the fucking worst," he whimpered.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
After an impromptu naptime- Shawna having realized magic takes a lot out of a person when she took a step and her legs turned to jelly, the children piling up together on the bed, Mick snoring half underneath it -Mick had to take a break in making lunch to break up a fight. Shawna and Mark were yelling at each other across the house. Literally, given that Shawna had teleported up onto one of the exposed rafters.  
  
"Do your screaming outside or shut the hell up!" He roared, startling the two into silence. God- Mick was suddenly reminded why he didn't like kids. Shawna at least looked somewhat repentant but Mark was glaring defiantly at the ground. "What's the problem?" Mick growled at him.  
  
"Nothing anyone cares about," the boy snapped before stomping off. He slammed the door on Shawna's plaintive, "That's not fair, Mark!"  
  
There was a beat of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Mick could see Hartley half cowering, hands over his hearing aid and eyes wide with fright. Mick sighed and looked up at Shawna, "C'mon down, Boo."  
  
"Boo?"  
  
"You know. Turn around, boo- there you are." He waved his hand at her. "Let's go."  
  
In a little more than a blink, Shawna was back on the ground "Heh. I guess I could use it to scare people." She grinned but her heart obviously wasn't into it.  
  
Ugh, how could anyone think he could deal with kids and their problems? Mick could barely take care of his own. "So what's with Mark?" Mick asked, steering Shawna to the kitchen so he could get back to cooking. "Something crawl up his ass or is he always like this?"  
  
"He tried to take my feather. I told him it was mine because you gave it to me but he wouldn't listen."  
  
"He normally try to take your things?" Mick asked, eyebrow raised. Granted, as a thief, disapproving of that was bordering on hypocritical but he never tried taking things from people he generally liked. Which was probably why he didn't generally like people.  
  
"His little brother's still in London. Clyde's real sick and couldn't come with us. He said he just wanted to look at the feather but I know he'd try to go see Clyde without waiting to learn how it worked." She sniffled. "I didn't want something to happen to him."  
  
"Oh. That sucks about his brother."  
  
Shawna nodded, still pouting a little. She liked Clyde. "Yeah."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"You bring me out here to kill me?" Mark asked when Mick finally stopped in a man-made clearing not far from the cottage while Hartley and Shawna cleaned up after lunch.  
  
"You're not even a fraction as annoying as some people I've known. Boo told me about your brother." Mark scowled darkly but said nothing. "I don't know what it's like to have a family you actually care about, but I know what it's like to miss someone you don't think you'll see again. 'Least you still have the chance to."  
  
"Do you want me to  _talk_  about it?" Mark asked, horrified.  
  
"Hell no. I don't know how to talk about feelings but I know there's more than one way to get them out." Mick nodded toward one of the bigger trees. A thick rope had been wrapped around the trunk though the fibers were fraying and the entire thing was blackened in places. "Now, when I need to let loose," Mick's hands ignited and Mark took a reflexive step away, "I beat on that tree there." He let his fists go, fire snuffing out. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slender stick, about as long as Mick's forearm. "You're pretty scrawny so that might not be the best solution for you. Try this instead."  
  
Mark's eyes went huge. "Is this a magic wand?"  
  
"It's only got one spelled binding but it's probably gonna work better for you than me." Mick said, trying not to be amused at the reverent way Mark took the wand from him. "When I get angry, I just get angry at everything. It's kinda how all my emotions work. Except for when I'm staring at fire, my emotions are just kinda all-encompassing. This, though, requires focused emotion and I'm not really good at that."  
  
"So," Mark squinted an eye and aimed the wand at the tree, "what do I do?"  
  
"You feel it in your hand? Like static, building up, making your fingers tingle?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
That was a helluva lot quicker than Mick ever got it to respond to him. He wondered if all children were naturally attuned to magic or if this was some crazy coincidence-fate-whatever thing. "Take that feeling and push it out through the tip of the-"  
  
With an ear splitting  _crack_ , lightning shot out from the wand, cracking the tree in two and setting the ones behind it as well as the bush into a smoldering fire. They both stared, speechless.  
  
Carefully, Mick reached over and pushed the tip of the wand down toward the ground. "Maybe a little less feeling next time."  
  
" _That was amazing_!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Mark all but raced through the door crowing, " _I have a wand_!" When Shawna and Hartley crowded around to see it, he went on, "It can shoot lightning. Mick said he has a hard time getting it to work but I could barely control it. I think my feelings are too powerful or something. It took a lot of practicing but I think I got it now!"  
  
"Is that why you've got ash on your face and hair?" Shawna asked, pulling away from the scent of burning and ozone that clung to Mark.  
  
"I wanna see!" Hartley cried. "Show me!"  
  
Mark opened his mouth but Mick cut in, "Remember what I told you. That thing even crackles in the house and I'm taking it away."  
  
He pouted but lowered his arm. He gave the youngest a placating grin. "Maybe after dinner, Hart."  
  
Mick huffed but as he passed by, he ruffled Mark's hair. "Good job out there, Wizard." At the nickname, Mark  _beamed_.  
  
"That's not fair!" Hartley cried. "Shawna and Mark have nicknames but I don't have one! Or a magic thing!"  
  
"Yeah, you do." Mick pointed at his ear. "You got that magic hearing thing."  
  
"But it's not the same! I want a magic thing!"  
  
"Kid, you're too young for magic to respond to you. I don't know what to give you."  
  
"What about your flute, Hartley?" Shawna asked him. "That's your favorite thing in the world, right? When you're old enough to use magic, Mick can put a spell on it for you."  
  
The boy looked at Mick with huge, hopeful, shining eyes and Mick just sighed. Intentional or not, Shawna had just boxed him into the agreement. "Yeah, okay. Bring it down and let me see if it could take a binding." If it had as much emotion infused in it as Shawna implied, it might limit his options.  
  
Hartley ran off and back so quickly  _he_  could've been lightning. Mick examined the flute closely and, just as he thought, it was fairly soaking in emotion and Mick was trying not to think of what enchantments would respond well to it. He didn't want to subconsciously try to shoehorn Hartley into a spell that wasn't compatible with him and for fuck's sake he was already considering something he'd have to wait years to do! Hartley stood before him, somewhat bashful. "I've been getting better at it but I don't think I sound very good. My parents tried to take it away but Shawna got it back for me. I'd hide it in my room and practice when my parents are away."  
  
Mick handed it back to Hartley, holding it in both hands and treating it like the treasure it was. "Alright. When you're old enough I can tell what magic responds to you, I'll put a spell on it. Until then, I'll call you..." he thought for a brief moment, "Piper."  
  
Hartley broke out in a huge smile and giggled and launched himself at Mick's waist, hugging the man as best his little arms would allow. "Thank you, Mick!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Mark and Shawna took to training with their respective items like, well, like two kids discovering they could use magic for the first time. Mark worked on his aim- lightning wasn't exactly precision-based but he at least managed to keep to the area he was aiming for -but also on activating the wand until he could do so consistently and without relying on overwhelming emotion. He also experimented with intensity which wasn't something Mick had even considered. Teaching himself to conjure sparks instead of a bolt took up a good portion of Mark's time.  
  
Shawna was every bit the natural as Mick had suspected. It didn't take her long to discover she could cart around multiple people so long as they were touching her or items she was holding and that she didn't have to know what a place looked like to teleport. A clear image of a person or item was destination enough to work. She kept the feather clipped to her hair and teleported so often and readily that, if it didn't take so much energy to do it, Mick suspected Shawna would've never walked again. Though a rule had to be instated that she was no longer allowed to teleport into the bathroom after she almost scared Hartley literally off the toilet.  
  
Hartley himself fluttered between the two, always eager to be the wowed audience or to offer encouragement and, in Shawna's case, part of the experimentation process. Otherwise he practiced his flute- he hadn't been too terrible before, especially after Mark's initial coaching, but now he'd gotten to the point where Mick found it to be pleasant background noise when he was in his workshop. For an hour or so after dinner, he also taught Mick sign language at the man's request given that the three children still used it out of habit and it might be useful being able to communicate with them non-verbally.  
  
It was... kind of nice- not that Mick would ever willingly admit it to the children. It made him feel much more productive than running errands, dealing with his garden, experimenting with recipes and trying out new enchantments did. He'd been going out to the wooded area just to light up his hands more and more to deal with the monotony of it. The kids served such a good distraction that Hartley had to remind him, three days later, of his derailed plan.  
  
"Are you ever gonna unpack your car?" He asked as he helped Mick prep breakfast. Mick wrangled all three of them into helping him cook as that was a life skill everyone should learn though Hartley was regulated to the simple tasks like beating eggs or measuring out ingredients.  
  
Mick paused in the middle of cubing some potatoes for the breakfast skillet, "Fuck, I completely forgot."  
  
"What'd you forget?" Shawna asked, yawning. In the time staying with Mick and no longer having to adhere to the strict schedule kept at the Rathaway's, the children's natural sleep patterns had begun to emerge. Shawna and Mark were proving to be night owls while Hartley, like Mick, tended to wake early. Which was part of the reason Hartley was tasked with helping out with breakfast. Mick didn't want anyone falling asleep in a mixing bowl.  
  
"I needed to find something in London," Mick said, looking down at his cutting board, interest in breakfast now gone.  
  
That perked Mark right up. "What something?"  
  
"Someone, actually. After my mentor left, I'd been doing something called Professor Emelius Browne Correspondence College of Witchcraft." He scowled at the vegetables still waiting to be chopped. "The day before you arrived, I got a letter saying the program had to be closed down before I got the last lesson. I was going to go track him down when I got you three."  
  
"We could still go!"  
  
"We're not taking your brother," Mick said bluntly and Mark visibly deflated. "Local doctor's starting to go senile and magic won't help 'cause I don't know any medicinal spells. Best place for him to get better is right where he is." Mark scowled down at the table, looking to get into a good sulk and Mick rolled his eyes. Mainly at himself for turning into such a giant damn sap so quickly. "We can try to swing a visit on the way back. Make sure the docs know where to send him when he's okay to leave." And, just like, Mark was back to beaming.  
  
"But we're going to London, right?" Shawna asked, sticking to the important point.  
  
"It was actually the main reason I was helping you learn to teleport," he told her. "Before I got," he waved a hand vaguely, "distracted."  
  
"Wait," Mark's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "were you going to take only Shawna?"  
  
"I guess so." He hadn't actually thought about it that hard.  
  
"She's not going anywhere without me!" Mark declared, grabbing Shawna's hand.  
  
"Or me!" Hartley scrambled off the chair and tackled her around the waist. The boys glared defiantly at Mick.  
  
He huffed, fonder than he'd like to admit. "I kind of figured. The problem is I don't know what this guy looks like or where exactly he operates from. I got an address but I've never really been to London." Outside of the rare heists, not exactly a lot of time to memorize street names.  
  
"Maybe we can help, we've been to all sorts of places in London because of Hartley's parents!" Shawna said, eager for adventure.  
  
Mick shuffled his weight a bit. He'd bet their knowledge was limited to the fancy, respectable parts of town and Mick would bet good money that this 'college' was anywhere but. Especially having gotten curious and went to the postmaster to look it up on a map. It may have been an outdated map and he may be a poor reader but Mick hadn't been able to find the exact address.  
  
"Breakfast first," Mick eventually said, getting back to chopping, "then we can figure things out."  
  
He'd hoped- even as he knew it was a stupid hope -that the kids would forget about it and maybe he'd drive off in the middle of the night or something. He didn't know, he still wasn't thinking too hard on it. They must've signed a plan while he was cooking, though, because the moment breakfast was done, Mark swept the dishes to the sink for a soak, Shawna teleported to the train station to snag a map and Hartley pestered Mick for an address. Soon enough the four of them- with Hartley having sequestered himself on Mick's lap -were looking down at an abstract view of London.  
  
"Well," Mark said slowly, "we kind of know where it is?"  
  
"We do?" Shawna asked, mystified.  
  
"Yeah. Remember- our parents take us to Portobello Road for the Christmas Market every year."  
  
"Oh, yeah! It will look different without all the decorations but I remember the place we had dinner at last time!"  
  
Hartley looked at him, face scrunched up like he was trying to force a memory. "I don't remember that."  
  
"Well, you don't go." The two shifted a little uncomfortably. "Portobello Road isn't where rich people go. It's all second hand stuff or antiques that aren't fancy enough for auctions."  
  
"It's where poor people go to get knock-offs," Mick said suddenly. He'd been to plenty of places like that, always run by people ready to cheat someone out of the shirt on their back if they had a chance. At Hartley's blank look, he said, "Fakes. Imitations. They're take some random nobody's paintings and try to pass it off as a lost masterpiece."  
  
"They can do that?"  
  
"Poor people aren't gonna get that stuff appraised- checked to make sure it's real."  
  
"It's such a long street, though." Shawna said. "Even when I get us there, this address might be on the other end. How will we get there?"  
  
They sat quietly, contemplatively for a moment. Mick asked suddenly, "Do you think you could teleport a car?"


	2. Chapter 2

Shawna could, in fact, teleport a car though it took all afternoon experimenting and practicing getting to that point and it took a lot out of her mentally to do so. Not to mention made her ravenous shortly afterward so Mick had made an extra batch of sandwiches specifically for Shawna to bring along. Thankfully, with the car, he didn't have to worry about carrying her or leaving her behind to recover. And all the experimenting built up Mick's resistance to teleporting side effects, eventually getting him to a point where it left his stomach roiling but the rest of him unafflicted.  
  
As Mick suspected, the address to the college didn't actually exist, the only possible place the number referring to being an empty lot that had never been anything other than a place to park. Not too far away, though, was Portobello Road's famous street market. Mick just hoped the sellers were as shady as he thought.  
  
He'd tried to keep the kids in the car but they refused to stay, even Shawna who was still wincing from an after-teleport hangover as Mick had come to call it. After a bit of back-and-forth, Mick caved, not having the patience to talk them around. "Fine. But both of you keep one hand on Hartley at all times and always make sure you can see me. Anyone tries to grab you, call for me. Don't try to be brave and fight them, just call for me. And  _no magic_  unless I tell you otherwise."  
  
They looked at him with wide eyes. "Do you really think it's that bad? Our parents never seemed to worry."  
  
Probably because they didn't know the kind of shit shady people got into like Mick did. "Dunno, but I don't want you chancing it."  
  
In the end they agreed to Mick's terms, looking at the stalls while keeping within ten meters of Mick as he asked the sellers fairly innocuous questions. It took a while for someone to give up that 'Emelius Browne' was a pseudonym though after knowing that, Mick was able to use it as an in for more information. Emelius Browne was an actual person, one of the most revered conmen in Portobello Road before too many complaints had too many authorities keeping a close eye on him, forcing him to leave for less suspicious pastures. His name, however, was used as a moniker for others, passed like a title to the most clever and daring conman of the time. This particular Emelius Browne had been using the name for an unprecedented three years now when most had only been able to hang on to it for a few months before they came under investigation and had to give it up.  
  
"You here to bust him?" Mick's current target asked. He'd been trying to pass off some shoddily gold-flaked mirrors as having come from the czar's palace when Mick stopped by.  
  
Mick raised an eyebrow. "You look pretty eager for me to say yes."  
  
"Man's smug, vain and thinks he knows everything. Plus he stiffed me almost half my cut on our last job for some minor mistake I made." He scowled. "He's been sitting comfy ever since he took the title and if taking the legs out from under him is the only payback I can get, so be it."  
  
Mick hummed. "Man got a name?"  
  
"Leonard Snart."  
  
And, because Mick wasn't stupid, especially when his information came from a place of vengeance, he verified this information from a few other people including a likely place to spot him. Mick pulled up to the building and stopped the kids before they went for the car doors. "You're staying here," he told them sternly. When they tried to protest, he silenced it with a hard look. "This man has a reputation for being cold and vicious and there's no telling how he'll react to being confronted. I want you three here, where it's safe. I don't come back in an hour, get back to the cottage. If I can, I'll ring you up to let you know that I'm okay but if you haven't heard from me in two days, tell Mrs. Hobday- the lady that brought you to me -that I left one day and never came back. Most of 'em think I'm an irresponsible hermit, they won't question it."  
  
"But Mick-"  
  
"I'm not saying this 'cause I wanna get rid of you," he snapped, making the children shrink back a bit. "I'm doing it 'cause I don’t trust the guy not to shoot me so like hell I'm gonna let him near you three!" Reluctantly they nodded and Mick's expression softened. "Good. Mark."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I know you brought your wand." The boy looked defiant but somewhat guilty. "Use it only if Shawna can't get you away fast enough, alright?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
He got out of the car, pausing long enough to say, "I plan on coming back." Then, with a final pat to the side door, headed inside.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The bookseller's cellar wasn't exactly Len's place of work, it wasn't even his most preferred, it was simply the place where any mail he'd get for his various scams ended up in so he tended to go there at random points once or multiple times a week, trying to be as unpredictable about it as he could. Though, on occasion- because some of his scams were more successful than he had intended -he also slept there, taking entire nights to respond depending on how long it had been since his last visit.  
  
He'd just gotten into a grove in his work when a knock interrupted him. The bookseller- who also dabble in art forgery trafficking -called down from the top of the stairs, "You have a visitor."  
  
"Regarding what business?"  
  
"Something about magic."  
  
Len paused, pen stopped mid-word. The Correspondence College of Witchcraft was started mostly as a lark, as a nod back to the original Browne's most joked about con. It was Len's least profitable con- not that he was expecting otherwise -that garnered the attention of young people wanting the thrill of dabbling in the occult. All the 'students' quickly gave up on the course except for one and some quiet part of Len he repeatedly tried to silence wondered if this person was actually successful. "Alright," he put his letters and notebook away, "send them down."  
  
Heavy boots clomped down the stairs which looked more rickety than it actually was. His visitor was deliberately making their presence known, not trying disguise that it was a large man coming down. Quietly Len pulled open a drawer, making sure the small but powerful pistol within was in easy reach. He settled in his seat, hands visibly on top of his desk and waited as the man moved in front of him.  
  
Len took a moment to drink the visitor in: rough hands, set shoulder, sharp eyes. The man had certainly been through some hard times, the kind that came with doing vicious criminal work and coming out the other side beaten but not broken. He was dressed like a country bumpkin with no tie on his collared shirt, or a jacket or a hat and his shirt one button passed decency undone showing off a nice swath of powerful muscles. In the back of his mind, Len entertained the idea of going up to the man and dragging his tongue up the valley between his pecs while drawling out, "Can I help you?"  
  
"I'm here about your course on witchcraft."  
  
Len's lips twitched slightly. "No refunds."  
  
"Not here for that," he said gruffly, "I want that last spell."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He glowered. "'Cause I paid for the full course."  
  
"What does it matter?" Len asked calmly though that quiet part of him was getting a little louder. "You can't care so much about getting your money's worth that you actually took the time to track me down, especially given you live so far away." The man's eyes widened slightly. "Yes, I know who you are. The only person that actually made it all the way to the end of the course. Or nearly." Len tilted his head slightly, studying him. "It wouldn't matter to you unless you actually managed to get any of them to work."  
  
The man- Mick Rory, his memory supplied -growled. "You saying those spells are supposed to be frauds?" He was remarkably unsurprised despite the accusation.  
  
"They're some gibberish out of an old book," he said flippantly before turning a cool gaze on Mick. "Are you saying they're not?"  
  
"What's it going to take to get that last spell?"  
  
"Proof that it actually matters."  
  
"You mean proof I can do magic."  
  
"Sure," Len said nonchalantly, pretending his heart wasn't pounding in his chest, "if you say so."  
  
Mick lifted a fist and for a moment Len thought it was brazenly stupid show of aggression. After brief moment something in Mick's fist flickered, the skin between his fingers glowing. Then a tongue of flame licked out, and another, until fire began crawling over his knuckles like they were feeding off twigs. Mick abruptly unclenched his hand, the fire disappearing in a final wisp of light and brief curl of smoke. Mick's hand was untouched. Belatedly, Len remembered to close his jaw. "That good enough for you?"  
  
Salvaging his dignity as best he could, Len said, "I think you and I should go somewhere a little more private for a talk."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Ironically, it was Len's sudden eagerness for discussion that made Mick wary, arguing out the terms of what was expected and going to happen during this 'private talk' before it actually happened: agreeing to go wasn't an agreement to whatever Len had planned, it would be non-aggressive on both their parts- no matter the outcome of the conversation, both parties would leave unharmed, etc, etc. As the negotiations went- Mick being very particular about wording -Len seemed to grow more pleased. Which was a first for Mick. Every time he tried pressing for specifications on deals with other criminals, they always got frustrated when they realized he wasn't as dumb as he looked. It made Mick more paranoid, certain he was missing something here.  
  
"Did you want this all in writing?" Len asked.  
  
He thought for a moment. "No. A piece of paper isn't going to make you more likely to keep your word, especially if you can just pull it off my body and destroy it afterward. And vice versa." Plenty of people along Portobello Road were certainly aware that Mick was looking for Len but those people were also various shades of criminals themselves and unlikely to bat an eye if Mick's body turned up dead somewhere without explanation.  
  
The place Len preferred to conduct personal business wasn't far but he agreed to take Mick's car. Not that Mick would've given him much of a choice since abandoning it and its contents was not on the table. Upon their approach, three little faces popped up from the backseat. " _Finally_! You were gone  _forever_!"  
  
"It was, like, half an hour," Mick grumbled back. In the reflection of the window, he could see that Len had gone still, eyes widening. "I left the windows cracked."  
  
"I'm hungry!" Shawna was on the verge on whining. "I had to take both Hartley  _and_  Mark to the bathroom and now I have a headache again!"  
  
"You took 'em to the cottage?"  
  
She glared, obviously unhappy with her current state of being. "Yeah. You made such a big deal about someone stealing us, you probably wouldn't like us wandering around, asking to use someone's toilet."  
  
"Smart. I'm placing you in charge from now on."  
  
Shawna beamed as Mark let out an indignant, "Hey!"  
  
"Mick, Mick," once he had the man's attention, Hartley, hands just barely moving like it was the equivalent of a whisper, signed, "Who's that?"  
  
"Right, yeah. Kids, Leonard Snart, guy I was looking for. Snart," Mick waved his hand blandly, "Wizard, Boo, Piper."  
  
"Hello," Len said slowly, obvious still uncertain what to make of this sudden turn. "This certainly explains your insistent use of 'party' during negotiations," he said sideways to Mick.  
  
"What about food?' Mark asked, ignoring Len. "We ate the last of the snacks ages ago."  
  
"Snart- place we're going, it have food?"  
  
"It has a working kitchen. Supposedly. Never actually used it."  
  
Mick gave him a dry look. "Bet that means you don't have any food, either."  
  
He shrugged, getting into the passenger's seat. "There's places to pick some up on the way." When Mick took his place in the driver's side, Len drawled, "I hadn't realized you were in the family way."  
  
Mick snorted. "Refugees. I'm taking care of them for now."  
  
"If I remember your address correctly, aren't you down by the coast? Good job bringing them back to blitzkrieg territory, I suppose."  
  
"Would it have been better if he left the three of us on our own?" Shawna asked pointedly.  
  
"I coulda took care of us!" Mark insisted.  
  
Len's eyes flickered up to look at the three children in the rearview mirror. "I didn't say I don't approve of the decision. Those are absolutely the faces of trouble."  
  
The kids spluttered and Mick snorted, putting the car into gear.  
  
Len's house was big. Not as big as Hartley's parents' house, but easily twice the size of Mick's cottage. "This is  _your_  house?" Mark asked suspiciously.  
  
"I'm the only one laying claim to it," Len said smoothly.  
  
"What does that mean? Do you rent?"  
  
"Means I live here."  
  
At the continued confusion beginning to turn into frustration on Mark's face, Mick told him, "Guy like this usually don't mean exactly what he says."  
  
With that nugget of wisdom, both Mark and Shawna mulled back over Len's words. "Then," Mark said slowly, "this is someone else's house and you're staying here without them knowing?"  
  
Len smirked, almost proud. "Sharp kid."  
  
"Why don't the people that own it live here?" Asked Shawna.  
  
Len's smirk grew. "Good question. Answer's over there, behind the cordoned area."  
  
The answer was an unexploded bomb partially buried in the yard. The kids automatically ducked behind Mick. "What the hell, Snart?" His own arms instinctively went back, like they'd protect his little huddle of minors if the bomb went off.  
  
"No one comes around because they're afraid it might decide to explode, leaving me free reign of a rather nice house and all the riches within." He said mildly, continuing up the path and inside. “And if it does decide to explode, either I'm not here and whatever of mine I keep inside I don't mind losing, or it explodes while I'm here and likely won't be in much shape to care." Mick shook his head at that logic but shuffled the kids inside.  
  
By dint of ignoring Len's attempts to bring up whatever conversation he brought Mick for, Mick made dinner first. The kitchen was large, still mostly stocked with cooking utensils and a fairly good amount of non-perishable foods- the perishable ones Mick forced Len to throw out. Mick suspected he just tossed them down next to the bomb. But Len's scowl at being rebuffed disappeared after his first bite of Mick's cooking- a simple liver and onion dish with some added spices that had been left behind and sauteed squash and zucchini on the side.  
  
"You're a man of surprising talents," Len said between mouthfuls. Mick just shrugged, pretending not to be secretly pleased.  
  
Then Mick made Len wash the dishes as 'a good example for the kids'. Len surprisingly didn't argue. While he was busy with the dishes, Mick signed to the kids to keep their magic secret. Then he told them out loud, "Go explore, play, whatever kids do. We got some adult stuff to talk about."  
  
"Do you really think this stuffy old place has anything fun in it?" Mark asked, wrinkling his nose.  
  
"The hell would I know? Maybe they got something worth snagging. Doubt anyone's coming back to miss it."  
  
"I'm sure this place has an attic and basement, who knows what you'll find there," Len announced, shutting off the faucet and drying his hands. "Not to mention secret cupboards."  
  
Three little faces brightened at that. "Secret cupboards?"  
  
"Big place like this? I wouldn't doubt it."  
  
The kids ran off, yelling at each other about who'd be the first to find a secret place and what cool things they'd find- maybe more magic like they found in Mick's cottage. Mick lifted a dubious eyebrow at Len. "There really secret cupboards?"  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Nothing worthwhile in any of 'em, I'll bet. At least not anymore."  
  
Len smirked, leading Mick out of the dining area and into the library where he'd apparently been living out of, a mattress dragged out by the desk and piled with pillows and blankets. The room had no windows so he wouldn't have to worry about anyone noticing the lights being on. "Didn't have anything worthwhile to begin with. Except for a couple exceptional bottles of wine but I'm afraid those have long been consumed." Len waved for Mick to sit in the ornate and not-that-comfortable looking sette while Len perched on a nearby desk. Mick slung himself lengthwise over the settee and- just as he thought -it was just as uncomfortable as it looked, even with the pillow propped against his back. "I'm going to lay everything out on the table: I was already aware magic existed."  
  
Mick's eyebrows jumped up, his arms crossed over his chest tensing on reflex. "Oh?"  
  
"I was hoping to find someone who could use magic but wasn't sure how to find them. Hence the correspondence course."  
  
"Where did you get these spells?"  
  
Len twisted around to dig into the bag resting on the desk next to him. "As a show of good faith." He pulled out a case, wood with a simple metal latch on the side, that Len tossed to Mick.  
  
Opening the case, Mick sucked in a breath.  _The Spells of Astoroth_. Mick's feet hit the floor, sitting upright as he stared at the cover. " _Where did you get this_?"  
  
"You're familiar with it?" Len asked, intrigued.  
  
"Guy that wrote it- Astoroth -basically created the transmutation school of magic. Or was the first one to put the spells all in one book. My mentor had been looking for a copy for  _decades_." Mick flipped through the book even though he'd gotten all the spells through the mail. All except... he flipped to the front, pleasantly surprised to find there was, indeed, a table of contents, found what he wanted and flipped all the way to the back-  
  
-where the last chapter of the book was missing. He glared up at Len as if the man had personally done it to piss Mick off.  
  
"That would be why I closed the course," Len said with a wry tilt to his lips. "Fortunately, the location of the rest of the book ties into what I'd like your help with."  
  
"Oh?" Mick asked suspiciously.  
  
"You see, the reason why I know about magic is because my little sister can use it. She's young, not too much older than your own. Her mother was a witch- wizard, whatever you call yourselves -and she'd left all her magical items for my sister- Lisa -to learn from when she was old enough." Len's expression went stormy, voice getting harder. "Our father, however, kept it locked away. Every few days he'd pester Lisa, see if she started showing any magical abilities and threatened her whenever none appeared." He gripped at his upper arm, a subconscious move, thumb tracing a deliberate path and Mick's eyes narrowed. "But when she did," he laughed, a barked sound that was part bitter and part proud, "she could turn things to gold."  
  
Mick's jaw dropped. "She could transmute gold without any kind of training? Holy shit!"  
  
"Certainly made our father happy. For all of a month." Len's mouth was back to a hard, thin line. "I tried helping her learn from some of her mother's other books, but that," he nodded to  _The Spells of Astoroth_ , "was the only one she could make work."  
  
"Other books must've been from a different school," Mick said, remembering Miss Price's lessons. "Everyone's got a kind of affinity to certain schools. They're the ones that come easiest to a person."  
  
"That would make hers transumation? What's yours?"  
  
"Enchantment, mostly. Or at least that's what I've studied." Mick raised his hand, letting fire play along his knuckles again. "Evocation seems to come naturally to me. Or at least this does. Never got a chance to really learn more."  
  
Len's brow furrowed. "But you managed to make the spells from the book work, right?"  
  
"Sort of. I figured out how to turn them into enchantments."  
  
"Which means what?"  
  
"Which means I can store magic into an object to be used later. Kinda like, I dunno, a landmine."  
  
That made Len's eyes dance, a vicious smirk playing on his lips. "You have no idea how much I'd like that analogy to be true."  
  
Mick frowned, affronted. "I could do that!" Most likely. He never tried but the possibility was there. "Anyway, your story."  
  
"Well, Lewis- our father -decided he didn't want Lisa wasting her time learning other things, just to keep making him gold. A few more months go by, I kept trying to teach her more in secret, and Lewis started getting mad because she can't seem to turn anything larger than a pebble into gold. So he locked her up, basically charging her bits of gold to be let out, to have her toys, to see me. I tried to sneak her out. Had plans to get us out of London, all the way up to Wales before he'd realize we were gone. He caught me." Len's voice got tight and he stroked that path on his arm harder. "Beat me half to death, threatened to shoot me if Lisa didn't make him more gold. That part of the book was all I managed to leave with."  
  
"How long ago was this?" Mick asked, his horror automatically transforming into rage.  
  
"Three years." Seeming to realize what he was doing, Len pulled his hand away, curling it over the edge of the desk instead. "I bribed some of the guards Lewis hired to smuggle letters to and from her and my previous attempts to break her out failed. Seems he managed to get his own wizard to put some protections up."  
  
Mick frowned. "I never done anything more than a basic dispel." He thought hard. "I mean I could always try, I'm pretty good at enchantments," not that he really had any comparison, "but it depends on how complicated it is..." Mick trailed off, realizing Len was staring at him. "What?"  
  
"You're talking like you're planning on helping me," Len said lightly, trying to hide the note of hope in his voice.  
  
"We're going to be making a written contract about what we're both doing and getting out of this," Mick said firmly, "but there's no way in hell I'm letting that asshole make some kid's life more of a living hell than he already has." Worst comes to worst, he could try burning his way around the protections.  
  
Len’s fingers were twitching. “Contract before we discuss the plan.”  
  
Mick’s eyes narrowed. “After.”  
  
“Before.”  
  
They spent minutes arguing before deciding that Mick would agree to listen to Len’s ideas without committing to do any of them while also agreeing he wouldn't either warn anyone of the plan or go behind Len’s back to do it himself. As Len began to pull out a set of blueprints from his bag, he asked Mick, “Usually when I’m planning a job firmly in someone else’s profession, they’re already brimming with suggestions and questions.”  
  
“You had three years to plan this.” Mick said. “No point wasting my time butting in when you have a better idea of what we’re getting into or when I don’t know what any of the weak points to your plan is.”  
  
The other man snorted. “If only that logic were more common.”  
  
Turned out Len didn’t have a plan. He had damn near a dozen of them. And almost all of them were pretty solid. Not only did he have plans, he’d taken note of any markings he saw around magical areas, a list of guards- who was allowed where and when, anything that might have been wards. Looking at the amount of detail, it was obvious that Len was anal, paranoid or just got very bored working on this plan for three years. Or perhaps a combination of the three, Mick would not disregard that possibility.  
  
Mick leaned in, mentally picking out which plans were the strongest and how he could tailor them to his own abilities when Len unceremoniously pulled the papers away. “Hey!”  
  
“Are you in?” Len asked, a playful smirk ghosting on his lips that was so unfairly attractive Mick nearly kissed him. “Or not?”  
  
“You certainly enjoy being difficult, don’t you?” Mick asked, scowling.  
  
“Considering the amount of information I normally share with people that haven’t agreed to join my crew is ‘zero’, I think I’m due an answer on commitment before indulging you further.”  
  
He scowled harder. “Fine, we’ll do this stupid contract.”  
  
They argued some more, being even more detailed and nitpicky over it. Mick could have sworn Len was enjoying every time Mick forced him to concede a point. The fact he seemed to be enjoying the process at all threw Mick a bit. If it weren’t for how badly he’d been burned (metaphorically) before and Miss Price drilling the importance of exact words in deals into his head, Mick wouldn’t have bothered. Though he had to admit- making deals, the more cutthroat the better, was more fun than he would have guessed when he'd been younger. He couldn’t help but enjoy it as much as Len was.  
  
When Mick was  _finally_  allowed to study the plans, he quickly found himself realizing that he was most likely going to have to enlist the kids’ help. Shawna’s definitely but the other two wouldn’t let her do this without them, Mick would bet. He asked Len a flurry of questions: what was the building made of, did he see the magic in action, how did the protective gear react, how long did he estimate the glyphs were there, and a dozen or so more besides. Len answered to the best of his ability and the ones he couldn’t, he wrote down so he could find out.  
  
“Anything else?” Len asked.  
  
“Can you get photos of the interior?”  
  
“Some parts. Which areas are you looking for?”  
  
Mick traced his finger along the blueprint. Sending Len in to take photos could be risky but Mick only needed them for the outer halls, places that would make for a good distraction. Len studied the indicated areas thoughtfully, committing them to memory. When he looked up at Mick, his eyes were sharp and intense. “You have an idea?”  
  
“Yeah.”   
  
"Just like I thought, you have all the makings of being exactly my type."  
  
Mick froze, uncertain if he'd heard or understood that correctly. Len straightened and walked over and something about him changing all at once. From the moment he first laid eyes on him, Mick had thought Len was the most gorgeous man- quite possibly person -Mick had ever seen but now... now there was something undeniable about him. Something sensual that make Mick want to fall to his knees and worship Len in any way possible. He licked his lips, swallowed hard and held tight to the edge of the desk in case he tried something stupid like reaching out. Especially when Len stopped mere inches away.  
  
Mick's breathing stuttered when Len reached out, fingertips skimming over the skin left bare by Mick's unbuttoned shirt, tracing over it lightly before flattening out over Mick's chest, hand half beneath the shirt. Len's eyes were dark, like he'd been thinking about doing that for a while. He purred in approval and Mick realized he was about to have a very visible problem shortly.  
  
It took two tries to unstick his words long enough to say, "You're taking a helluva gamble." His voice was low and rough and he was rewarded by Len biting his lower lip briefly.  
  
"You're not doing anything to stop me," Len replied, looking Mick in the eyes while his hand boldly trailed down to the first properly done button. "Looks to me like my gamble is paying off."  
  
Mick groaned, leaning back a bit more, spreading out his legs so Len could slot himself between them until the two were pressed together. He felt Len's sigh of pleasure across his collarbones and Mick pried his hands off the desk, instead using them to pull Len insistently closer. "Seems like a win-win to me."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
To their excitement the kids had found a couple of hidden cupboards. To their disappointment they were essentially just that- cupboard space, just big enough to hold built-in shelves and mundane things like linen or replacement lightbulbs. The attic, however, was a huge storage area filled with paintings and furniture and old clothes and the three of them spent at least an hour dressing up and playing games amongst it all.  
  
After a while, though, when the fun was starting to wind down and they’d gotten tired enough to realize they were all covered in dust and cobwebs and were in dire needs of baths, they tromped their way downstairs. They stopped at the dinning room where Mick and the children brought their bags in from the car, pulling out sleep clothes and some new ones to change into tomorrow.  
  
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Hartley asked. “Do you think they’re still talking?”  
  
“Whenever your dad talks to someone about business, that always takes forever,” Mark reminded. “But the guy knows Mick can do magic, right? So it probably has to do with that.”  
  
“Yeah, but what?”  
  
“Stealing stuff, I guess. Mick  _is_  a thief.”  
  
Shawna looked uncomfortable at the thought. It was one thing to live with someone that stole in the past but something else when they’re actively about to steal something. “He could be doing something else,” she protested weakly.  
  
“He could be beating someone up.”  
  
“Mark!”  
  
“What?” He turned to walk backwards so he could match Shawna’s glare. “Mick is huge! I bet he could beat up anyone at Hartley’s house- even the guy that brings the ice!”  
  
“Just because Mick is big doesn’t mean all he can do is fight!”  
  
“Why else would that guy want him for?”  
  
Shawna began to tick off her fingers, “He takes good care of his garden, he can cook, he can do lots with magic that doesn’t have to do with stealing- he made it so Hartley could hear!”  
  
“Mick is great,” Hartley said, scolding the older boy with a glare, “he doesn’t need to hurt people!”  
  
Mark rolled his eyes, he could see the door to the library was open a crack. “I’m not saying he isn’t, I’m just saying most people would look at him and think-”  
  
Shawna and Hartley barely got to the door before they ran into Mark's back as he quickly backpedaled, pulling the door closed on all of them. "Ow!" Hartley cried, rubbing his face. "What was that for?"  
  
Mark looked like he was grossed out, face gone bright red. "Let's go find a bath and bed ourselves. Mick can find us in the morning."  
  
"Why? Were they still talking about boring adult stuff?"  
  
Mark turned and herded the other two away- practically shoving. "Yeah, really boring adult stuff."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Len figured he'd show remarkable restraint, waiting a good ten or so minutes before saying, "Your little ones are glaring at me."  
  
Mick paused long enough in his breakfast making to glance over his shoulder. "So they are."  
  
Len remained calmly sitting under the disapproving scrutiny of the three kids. "Why are they glaring at me?"  
  
"Should probably try asking them."  
  
As Len opened his mouth to ask, Hartley beat him to it by saying, "You're not allowed to hurt Mick!"  
  
That got everyone, including Mark and Shawna, to look at the youngest in surprise. "What do you mean? How did I hurt Mick?"  
  
"He's got bruises! And he's walking weird!"  
  
Mick roared with laughter while Len sat, resolutely pretending he wasn't turning bright red. The other two children went from surprised to confused until Shawna blurted out, "Oh! You two had sex!" Len's composure cracked enough he had to close his eyes and wished he was somewhere else. He took some measure of satisfaction at the fact Mick had choked on a guffaw and was now doubled over coughing.  
  
He took further satisfaction when, realizing what had just been said, Mark and Shawna's faces scrunched up as they said, " _Ewwwww_!"  
  
"Well, now that that's out in the open," Len rolled his eyes, trying to maintain his dignity. "Why were you two glaring? You obviously figured out I hadn't hurt Mick." They continued to glare, jaws resolutely shut. He studied them for a moment before smirking, long and slow. "Are you jealous? Is that it?" To his delighted schadenfreude, they began to turn slightly pink. "You are! That's just adorable."  
  
"What would they be jealous about?" Mick asked, folding over a giant omelet before sliding it onto an equally giant plate. He placed it in the center of the table, along with a bowl of halved plum tomatoes and another of home fries. At Mick's obliviousness, the two turned distinctly red and Len's smirk grew into a full-on grin.  
  
"And you're naive about it- that's even more adorable!" Len said, happily torturing Shawna and Mark while serving himself breakfast. Mick and Hartley shared mutually confused looks. If he were within range, Len was certain one of the two kids would be attempting to kick him into silence. "They're jealous because they think I'm going to take up all your attention now," he said, popping a tomato into his mouth.  
  
"What, just because we had sex?" Mick asked, ignoring the reflexive faces the two pulled again. "You were good but not that good."  
  
"A palpable strike," Len chided. "Fortunately, I prefer not having people fixated on me so it works out for the best."  
  
"Wait," Shawna looked between the two, "but I thought you're only supposed to have sex with people you love."  
  
Len scoffed. "Typical excuse given to children to keep them from experimenting too young. You can have sex with whoever you want so long as you want it and aren't pressured or forced into it but that's a completely different talk."  
  
"You think the two of us fell in love within a day of meeting each other?" Mick asked incredulously.  
  
"Well... it happens in stories."  
  
"Stories that end in 'happily ever after', maybe. But that's not how life works."  
  
"Then why did you have sex?" Mark asked.  
  
"Because he's gorgeous and I hadn't gotten any in a damn long time."  
  
Len nearly snorted up his coffee in laughter. "You don't have much in the way of shame, do you?"  
  
"You want I should feed 'em some lies about birds and bees and how I think you're my Prince Charming come to sweep me off my feet?" Mick snorted, cutting out a serving of omelet for Hartley and then himself. "They gotta learn at some point, might as well be when they ask."  
  
"Was that why you had..." Hartley's face scrunched up as he sounded out the new word carefully, "sex with Mick?"  
  
"He's attractive, has certain qualities I like and I find him rather interesting." Len said.  
  
"Because he can do magic?"  
  
"It helps, but it's not the only reason."  
  
"Had people interested in me only for the magic," Mick said gruffly, obviously a somewhat tender point, "and I'm not too eager to be used like that again."  
  
"I was straightforward with what I have planned for your abilities," Len countered, idly spearing a potato, "but I don't sleep with people just because they're useful." At the intrigued lift of Mick's eyebrows, Len's expression softened to a sultry smile. "Like I said, you've got all the makings of being my type."  
  
Mick swallowed, eyes darkening slightly. "Good to know," he said gruffly.  
  
Hartley, oblivious to the flirting going on directly in front of him, asked, “What are you wanting Mick to do for you?”  
  
“A heist,” Len said easily. Mark shot Shawna a smug look while Shawna looked vaguely disappointed.  
  
“What are you stealing?” Mark asked.  
  
Before Len could answer, Mick said, “His sister.” Everyone stopped to stare at Mick- bar Len who shot him a disapproving look. “What? We’re going to need their help, they might as well know what’s going on.”  
  
The children brightened, “We’re going to help?” while Len’s disapproval intensified to a scowl, “Why would we bring children into this?”  
  
“Because they can also use magic.”  
  
“You said not to let him know!” Shawna protested.  
  
“Now that I know what he wants,” Mick said, “and we have a contract written out protecting you three after the heist, it’s okay.”  
  
“I knew you were looking out for the kids when we were writing it up,” Len said over his mug, “but not because they can do  _magic_.” He gave Mick an impressed look. “You certainly know how to drive a bargain.”  
  
Mick shrugged like it was no big deal but secretly he was proud to have pulled that off on someone as sharp as Len was proving to be. “They’re just going to set up the distraction while we do the actual work. Boo, I need you to go back to my workshop and bring me my notes. They’re in a folder in the desk drawer.”  
  
“Sure thing, Mick!” Then, because everyone in Mick’s life seemed to love being dramatic, Shawna disappeared. Len’s fork clattered to the table and he jumped out of his chair, “Whu,” he looked around, seemingly more confused at the others’ lack of response than to a little girl vanishing. Shawna reappeared not a minute later. “Here you go!”  
  
Mick took the folder offered to him. “Coulda waited until after breakfast,” he rebuked mildly.  
  
“I’m pretty much done anyway.”  
  
“Me, too.” Mark pushed his plate away, mimicked by Hartley. “When is the heist going to happen?”  
  
“Not for a couple days,” Mick said.  
  
“ _Days_?” Mark flopped in his seat. “This place is so  _boring_!”  
  
“I need to do some research,” Mick tapped the folder by his elbow, “see what kind of distraction we can make.” He got a sly look on his face, “Snart can entertain you while I read up.”  
  
The four eyed each other distrustfully. “If that’s what it takes to get this thing rolling,” Len said as magnanimously as someone about to step before a firing squad, “so be it.”  
  
Mick refilled his coffee and hid his grin behind the mug. “Thanks, partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter re-uploaded because somehow italics were missing.


	3. Chapter 3

It took the first half of the day for Mick to find the right spells- ones that would provide the most distraction while being easy to enchant multiple times. He wrote up a list of items he’d need before calling Len- and the kids who would be taking that part of the plan -in to go over his idea. Then he sent Len out to gather the items while Mick  _very carefully_  went over what the kids were supposed to do, making sure to impart that they were to go nowhere near any of the men that would be there, no matter what. They agreed, some more grudgingly than others, and, when Len returned with the items, were fostered back onto the conman. While Mick enchanted his first piece, the kids interrogated Len’s intentions for Mick. That mostly resulted in Len deflecting or giving half truths. Given his intentions toward Mick- romantically speaking -were pretty much ‘nice to look at, even better to sleep with’, Len didn’t exactly have much to give them.  
  
As the night went on, Len realized Mick was too focused on whatever he was doing and someone had to deal with dinner. Being as recognizable as he was, if Len went to a restaurant and suddenly ordered enough food to feed a small army, people would notice and talk. Besides, it wasn’t as if Len had never cooked before. He was just… very bad at it. Which the kids were more than happy to tell him, criticizing from the door. He eventually had to rope them into service to get them to shut up and between the four of them, they managed a passable dinner.  
  
Mick had been pleasantly surprised by the meal and was even more surprised that it wasn’t half bad. The way the kids beamed at that made an odd feeling curl in the pit of Len’s stomach. It wasn’t so much jealousy that Mick was a better father figure than Lewis had been, it was more... something. Something Len couldn’t label as the kids all talked over each other, eager to tell Mick what part of dinner they’d done- that he’d apparently taught them -and Mick acting like he was actually interested in it.  
  
The next morning Mick was back to making breakfast and sitting on the table was a small candle, the kind of short, stout sort that filled the palm of someone’s hand. “Try to make it work,” he told the group at large and refused to give them any more information asides from not needing to light the wick. He didn’t tell them what it did or how to activate it so Mark and Shawna- and eventually Hartley and even Len as the minutes stretched on -passed it around.  
  
By the time it got to Mark for the fifth time, he took a deep breath and gradually eased his energy into the candle, much like he did when trying to get his wand to spark. He felt something, the indescribable feeling he got whenever the wand activated, almost like a click in the back of his brain. Someone gasped- a couple someones -and Mark opened his eyes to find something like smoke curling out of the candle and gathering above their heads.  
  
Mick, breakfast in hand, came in and looked up at the thick cloud above them. “Figured you’d get it, Wizard. Good job.”  
  
“That,” Len pointed up, looking as flustered as he sounded, “that’s a cloud, right?”  
  
“Yeah. Just a regular one. I could make them rain or snow, too, though that’s some extra steps. Figured we could seed the halls with these things- Boo can teleport Wizard around, freak the guards a bit.”  
  
Len’s expression evened out, feeling more surefooted with something to plan. “That’s a good idea. Lewis hires cheaply, he cares more about if they’ll follow directions than if they’ll do the job well. And, in my experience, the guys on the bottom rung tend to be more superstitious or at least jumpier.”  
  
That’s how it seemed to Mick, too. “Unfortunately candles that size don’t hold clouds all that big but anything larger will either be easier to spot or harder to carry.”  
  
“We could carry bags,” Shawna volunteered.  
  
“Think you’ll have to. Snart, you think you can figure out how many we’ll need?”  
  
“Sure,” Len said, still looking up at the cloud and visibly calculating.  
  
They fell into a natural routine early in the preparation period. In the mornings Mick would keep the kids occupied either with practicing for their part of the job, taking them shopping for groceries, having them help out with the simpler steps to prep enchanting or just taking them out to the park to burn some energy. Len, meanwhile, would be out gathering information, some harder-to-come-by items for Mick and sneaking photos of his father’s place for Shawna. They’d all meet up for lunch at Len’s house and after Len would take the kids while Mick worked. Len kept them up on their education- or at least the parts he thought was important -encouraged them to read from the library or, on rare occasions if they got too restless, took them to see performers at the local clubs. He also, after getting Mick’s okay, went with them to see Clyde. After hours, Len said, when it was less likely they’d be walked in on by the staff or other visitors.  
  
Clyde was being hospitalized for pneumonia, Len told Mick after their first visit. It developed while he had the flu and was still in the process of recovering. While the kids were catching up, Len had snuck out to take a look at Clyde’s chart and while it seemed his symptoms were mostly gone, the doctors wanted to be sure he wouldn’t have a relapse while in a coastal environment with little medical support. But once Clyde saw what the other kids have been up to, he was determined to get better so he could try some magic for himself.  
  
After one such visit, after dinner and before the kids got ready for bed, Mick put a rock on the table. Everyone stared at it in confusion until Mick said, “Think I figured out a way for Piper to help since he won’t stop complaining about having nothing to do.”  
  
The child in question looked torn between insulted and excited. Len just lifted an eyebrow at the rock. “You’re going to have him stay behind to rocksit?” Hartley glared at Len, definitely insulted.  
  
“No.” Mick pulled out a thin piece of wood- a reed for some sort of instrument -with strange symbols etched into it and handed it to Hartley. “I was thinking he could be an added distraction. If you make noise on this, it should come out of the rock.” Hartley put the reed to his lips and gave a little hum. The rock buzzed like it was vibrating but nothing else. Mick frowned. “Try louder,” he said. Hartley did. The rock vibrated louder but nothing very attention grabbing.  
  
“Do you need to adjust the antenna?” Len asked dryly.  
  
“It ain’t a radio,” Mick snapped back, distracted and annoyed and lacking bite, “there’s no antenna to adjust.” Nevertheless he turned the rock a hair and ignored Len’s smug look.  
  
Again and again Hartley tried and no matter how Mick adjusted the rock or checked the inscriptions, nothing worked. Shawna and Mark tried to make their friend feel better by giving it a shot- and failing -but Hartley just sniffled quietly, depressed at not being able to be useful. Mick turned the rock over in his hand, scowling and muttering to himself until Len plucked it away. “Hey!”  
  
“I know that look- you’re about to start working on figuring this out and you’ll ignore everything else until you do. I’d rather not waste anymore time than necessary.” Though his tone was clipped and firm, Len’s expression seemed understanding. “You keep working on the candles. I’ll look through your notes, see if I can figure something out.”  
  
“You think you’ll be able to understand it?” Mick asked more bitter than accusatory.  
  
“Maybe, maybe not. The important thing is if I have it, it won’t be distracting you.”  
  
The next day Len figured out- the inscriptions had to be on the same material and, using a jeweler's kit Len picked up somewhere, they managed to screw a piece of wood to the bottom of the rock. When Hartley tried it, sound rang out loud and clear. It also sounded like a frenzied, choking beast.  
  
“Is it supposed to sound like that?” Len asked, eyebrows raised.  
  
“No,” Mick said, somewhere between off put and impressed.  
  
“That sounds horrifying!” Mark and Shawna were grabbing at Hartley’s arms, faces split in huge grins. “Make it say something!”  
  
Hartley played with it all day, making the rock wail and cry and scream until Len had him stop, worried someone outside the house might hear. Then Mick gave Hartley another rock and reed to practice switching between targets and Len gave up on any sort of quiet.  
  
After that the preparations went generally smoothly and Mick finished all the rocks and candles quicker than expected. There was an incident where, when packing one of the bags, Mark accidentally activated one candle and it caused a chain reaction where all the other candles in the bag went off and caused everyone to have to avoid that part of the hall until the storm died down- Len hadn’t cared about the rain or snow growing mold, he wasn’t planning on staying in the house much longer anyway. By that point, Mick had so much practice making the candles he’d restocked the bag in a day. And as precautionary measures, they wrapped all the candles in butcher paper and had both Mark and Shawna wear gloves, just in case.  
  
During the night before the heist, Mick was finishing up the last of the rocks, checking over the reed to ensure there were no outstanding flaws. He set it down on the table in front of him and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Len hold out a knife edge scriber for Mick. Mick didn’t know what it was about that moment that made him freeze, he just realized, very suddenly, that Len had been handing him things all night. With his nose and attention buried in his plans, Len just seemed to instinctively know what tool Mick needed without Mick having to actually say anything.  
  
Eventually the paused registered to Len, looking up to see why Mick hadn’t taken the tool yet. “Is something wrong?”  
  
“No.” Mick took the scriber and set it aside without looking at it. Len sat up, uncertain what was going on but not moving away. Mick opened his mouth once, twice, not really know what he was trying to say before settling on, “I ever tell you you’re gorgeous?”  
  
“Once or twice,” the memory of Mick’s gruff voice and large hands under his shirt had Len’s lips twitching. “Am I getting a repeat performance?”  
  
“Did say it’d be my turn next time.” Mick said, leaning in. On a whim, he laced his fingers through Len’s and watched as Len’s breath seemed to catch, eyes growing dark at the action. “What do you say? Call it an early night?”  
  
Len’s only response was to pull Mick towards his mattress.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
“ _This_  is your old man’s place? How did he afford a damn  _palace_?”  
  
“It’s even bigger than Hartley’s parents’ house!” Mark said.  
  
Len huffed though his amusement was edged with bitterness. “How does any two-bit crook get a place like this? Forgery, bribes, blackmail and murder. Or, if you’re too inept, have your son do it for you.”  
  
Technically they were no longer in London but close enough that homeowners claimed they were. It was a big house with a huge, empty lawn all around it. Anyone that tried to sneak across the grounds would be seen instantly. Briefly Mick wondered how Len was able to get such clear photos of the hallways but then chalked it up to Lewis’s manner of employing cheaply- the guards wouldn’t care what Len did so long as he paid them enough and didn’t get them in trouble. The five of them were currently on the roof of a neighbor, three sets of binoculars between them. It was just before dusk and the blitzkrieg actually proved to be helpful, causing the flood lights they could see on Lewis's roof to remain off. Len pointed out the part of the roof he wanted Shawna to teleport them to while they waited for the sun to set. The house was set up like a horseshoe and setting up at one end of the roof would give them the best view of the windows with very little chance of getting spotted. They’d set up a blanket with food like some kind of picnic while they waited. Just before it got too dark for Shawna to see, they teleported over.  
  
The operation began slowly- Shawna dropping a rock into an empty room and Hartley making it wail, drawing guards from their patrols. Then Shawna and Mark popped into the now empty hall and seeded a couple candles in it, causing clouds to fill up the ceiling, one of them faintly rumbling. Once those were noticed, more guards were drawn from their posts, allowing the two children to set even more candles and a couple more rocks. Soon people were running around everywhere and they could hear shouting even on the roof.  
  
Len watched the chaos unfolding, keeping an eye out for who ran where- and noting how many were running from the house altogether. He hadn’t been able to find Lewis’s office- or wherever he spent his time -only knew that it was one of the interior rooms where they wouldn’t be able to get eyes on him. That was fine, though. Len had been able to find the door that would lead him to his sister, that was far more important.  
  
Mark and Shawna reappeared on the roof, their bags finally empty. Mick put a hand on Shawna’s shoulder, “How’re you feeling, Boo?”  
  
“Good!” She bounced slightly, still energized. “I could do this for hours!”  
  
“Save some of that enthusiasm for the getaway,” Len said, softening the rebuke with a smirk. “We’re going in. Hartley, you remember your job?”  
  
Hartley, surrounded by different reeds and photos of each hallway they corresponded with, chirped automatically, “Keep the guards away from you and Mick!”  
  
“And you two?”  
  
“Keep an eye out, don’t engage, get to safety if anyone sees us,” Mark and Shawna recited boredly, Len having forced them go over it multiple times during the days leading up to this.  
  
“Alright,” Len put his hand on Shawna’s other shoulder, “let’s go.”  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It was easy to slip out of the hallway Shawna dropped them off at and head towards the interior rooms. There were still a number of guards running about but most were convinced the place was beset by ghosts or vengeful spirits. Len picked the lock on the door he knew would lead him to Lisa with barely a thought, easing the door open. He didn’t know what lay beyond it but he hadn’t expected a room barely larger than a walk-in pantry, empty save for a wooden door set into the floor. Before Len could try the handle, Mick blocked him with a hand.  
  
“It’s magically locked,” he said, “I can feel it.” Mick knelt before the door and pulled some items out of his bag. They were all ordinary things that Len picked up from the market but through whatever weird combination of usage or treatment he’d done to them beforehand, Mick dispelled the lock, the magic flaring briefly before fading away. It never failed to impress Len how Mick was able to turn mundane things into something amazing, be it magic or cooking.  
  
The passage they went into was little more than a cellar, roughly constructed and poorly lit by lightbulbs in dire need of changing. Pipes ran along the ceiling built but a few inches above their heads and Len could hear water rushing through them. About ten feet in was a metal door with locks and strange symbols marked on it. Mick swore softly, “Old man got someone to do heavy duty wards on this.” While Mick got to work, Len hung back by the ladder, listening for anyone coming their way. As he waited, Len noticed a knob on one of the pipes next to him. It was scuffed, as if it had seen a decent amount of use and, just to see what would happen, he turned it. He heard the water stop flowing further down the bunker and Len had to clench his jaw to keep from seeing red. There was a water shutoff valve in the place his little sister was being held captive. His father could threatened  _denying Lisa something as basic as water_.  
  
Len turned away from the valve and forced himself to remain patient until Mick finally got the door open with a proud ‘a-hah!’. Then, as Mick stepped through, he started swearing again. About ten feet down was another metal door, this one covered in another set of symbols.  
  
“Well,” Len snapped, “are you going to get to it or not?”  
  
Mick huffed out a breath, running a hand over his smooth head. “You know how many more of these doors there are?”  
  
“Does it matter?”  
  
“Yeah, it matters! How long did it take me to get through that one?” He waved at the open door.  
  
“Just over five minutes.”  
  
“It’s probably going to take me five minutes for that one and any that might be after it.” Mick’s eyes were hard. “I’m not risking something happening to my kids while I spend an hour getting through these wards.”  
  
Len’s jaw clenched and he turned his body, blocking as much of the passage as he could. “Are you reneging on our deal?”  
  
Mick’s expression softened. “No, I’m not. I’m saying we need to do this the smart way. You said Lewis can’t do magic, right?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So how’s he get through these wards?”  
  
Len’s mind turned the question over for a moment. “He must have some sort of key.” Though Mick was smirking proudly, Len was less convinced about the possibility. “How do you plan on getting it away from him?”  
  
“I don’t. But if he thinks the place is going to come down, I’m betting he’ll come down to drag his money maker some place safer.” Len opened his mouth to protest but Mick said quickly, “I’m not actually bringing the house down, just need to make him think it.”  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
With some judicious application of fire hands and accelerants- Mick was going to have to thank Mark for the lessons in activating his powers gradually rather than all at once since it allowed Mick to do this without blowing his face off -they finally flushed Lewis and Lisa out. Nothing too important was on fire- yet -but there were enough controlled explosions everyone that hadn’t fled before the ‘spirits’ was evacuating now. From their hiding place in the hall outside the underground passage, they watched as a furious, balding man dragged a struggling girl behind him. She was willowy in a way that had nothing to do with grace and everything to do with malnutrition, skin so pale it was almost translucent and long hair greasy and knotted. Mick clamped a hand on Len’s arm before the man could move. “Don’t go flying off the handle,” he said, Len’s hand gripped his tightly. “At least not until she’s safe.”  
  
Len flashed him a tight smile before putting on his icy, controlled mask once more. He stepped out into the hall, drawling out, “I’ll take her from here.”  
  
The two spun, Lisa calling out, “ _Lenny_!” while Lewis pulled a gun on his son and scowled darkly. “Knew it was you. I knew your sorry ass would be back some day.”  
  
“Then you know all I want is Lisa.” Len held out his hand. “Give her to me and I’ll let you go on with your pitiful existence.”  
  
“First, you tell me how you did this.” Lewis waved his gun at the remains of a cloud clogging up a corner.  
  
“ _I_  did it.” Mick said, stepping into view. “Now, I ain’t as patient as my partner here. So hand over the girl or things are gonna get messy.” His hands ignited at his sides.  
  
Lewis took one look at Mick’s flaming fists, tightened his grip on Lisa and ran down the hall, dragging her with him. Len and Mick cursed, chasing after. “Careful,” Len said as their feet pounded over the runner, “that room’s a dead end- he must be planning something!”  
  
They came to a stop just outside the door. Lewis was already up against the back wall, an arm looped around Lisa’s neck, half choking her. Now that he could see her face, Mick could tell the girl was exhausted and staring at Len with a wild desperation. Lewis’s gun was pointed towards the two men, “Don’t come any closer!”  
  
“Why?” Mick growled, stepping into the room. “Not looking forward to getting your ass beat?” The flames over Mick’s hands spluttered and died. He looked down at his hands and tried to reach for the familiar energy that had always been with him. It was there, he could feel it but it was like something was keeping him from tapping into it, his wellspring still and inert within him. “What the hell?”  
  
“ _That’s_  why, genius.” Lewis sneered. “I knew if there were more magic users around, my boy might try to use one against me so I found one powerful enough to create an anti-magic room.”  
  
“Mick,” Len asked out of the corner of his mouth, “does that mean your magic is  _gone_  or just sealed while we’re in the room?”  
  
“Just the room.”   
  
Len hummed thoughtfully. Then, in a smooth motion, he pulled a gun out from his coat. Lewis’s smug expression fell. “Not that it matters. I’m not going to rely solely on other people, magic ability or not.”  
  
Mick cackled, pulling his own gun out. “My sentiments exactly.” From the corner of his eye he saw Len smirk. “Here’s the deal: you let the kid go, you get to keep your brain in your skull.”  
  
“No.  _Here’s_  the deal.” Lewis turned the gun on Lisa. She whimpered as it pressed against the side of her head. “I’ll be leaving and I’ll be taking my little girl with me. And if I think either of you are going to try anything funny,  _her_  brains will be all over the floor. Just ask my boy if you think I’m bluffing.”  
  
There was a long pause. Then Len lowered his weapon. “What are you doing?” Mick asked.  
  
Len put the gun back in its holster under his jacket. “He’s not lying. He’ll kill her in a heartbeat.”  
  
“He knows if he does, we’ll kill him, right?”  
  
“He doesn’t care. If he thinks he won’t get out of this alive, he’ll do it.”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
Len held Mick’s eyes steadily. “Because that’s how much he hates me.”  
  
Lewis snorted. “Overstating your importance, but that’s the gist of it. Now I want you boys to get moving.  _Slowly_.”  
  
Mick growled but lowered his own weapon and followed Len’s slow, measured steps around the room, the distance between them and Lewis remaining unchanged as they circled around. Once Lewis was at the door, he smirked nastily. “Very obedient.” He backed out into the hall, Lisa nearly tripping over her feet and the two men followed slowly after, matching Lewis step for step. When they’d just gotten out of the room, Mick saw something flash in the darkness outside the window and he thought briefly, "The kids", before the hallways erupted into noise and light.  
  
The window behind Lewis shattered inward with a crack of blinding light and the sharp scent of ozone followed by a crash of thunder so powerful it sent all four reeling. Mick’s ears rang so loudly he nearly missed a voice ringing with power he hadn’t heard in years, “ _Treguna mekoides trecorum satis dee_!”  
  
Mick blinked the light from his eyes. Next to him Len was shaking his head to clear it. For a moment nothing more happened. Then, like a heart learning how to beat, the hallway runner began to twitch, little ripples of movement that radiated out from where Lisa’s hands were pressed against it. It shuddered, hard enough everyone scrambled off the rug and onto the wooden floor. The runner reared up like a raging serpent, twisting around to glare at the one that did its master wrong. Lewis yelped and tripped over the runner where it bunched up behind him, scuttling back on all fours. The runner fell on him like a tidal wave, drowning Lewis in its folds while the man fought and snarled and cursed. Len and Mick pressed themselves against the wall, as if movement might draw its attention to them.  
  
“Lenny!” Lisa crashed into her brother’s waist- the carpet didn’t seem to care at all -and broke Len out of his stupor. He gripped Lisa to him tightly, hands on her shoulders and Mick could plainly see the amazement and dismay at how much she’d grown in their time apart. “I knew you’d come! Dad kept saying you never would, that you forgot all about me, but I knew you’d come back!”  
  
“I’ll always come back for you,” Len said softly. Mick turned away, feeling like he was imposing on a private moment.  
  
Which was when, of course, Lisa addressed him. “Who’s this, Lenny?”  
  
“Lisa, this is Mick. He agreed to help me get you in exchange for one of the books your mom left you. The one that got ripped when I left.” Len suddenly sounded uncertain. “Do you still have it?”  
  
“She’s got it,” Mick said. “You taught yourself to use the substitutiary locomotion spell.”  
  
She made a face at him, unafraid of the big man with her brother. “Not like I had a lot going on. I wasn’t allowed out of my room that often.”  
  
“Still a hell of an advanced spell to teach yourself when your brother said you never learned to do anything else but turn stuff to gold.”  
  
Lisa stiffened, her grip on Len tightening. “If you think you can force me to make gold-”  
  
“Nah, don’t need it.” Mick looked over to where Lewis had stopped struggling with the runner, completely encased in it. “I got more than enough expensive shit to pawn off when I need to.” Ignoring the muffled sounds, Mick went over to the window and signed. A moment later, Shawna was standing in front of him.  
  
“Hi, Mick! Are we all done? Hartley’s about to fall asleep and Mark is afraid you’re gonna be mad at him for shooting that lightning bolt.” Without waiting for an answer, Shawna turned to Lisa, holding her hand out. “Hi, I’m Shawna! Are you hungry? I think there’s still an apple left. It’s not much but at least it’s something.”  
  
Lisa looked at the outstretched hand before slowly taking it at Len’s encouraging, “It’s alright, Lise.”  
  
“Hi. I’m Lisa. I guess I could eat an apple.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s passed all of your bedtimes,” Mick scoffed. Shawna always got a little hyper when she was about to hit her teleportation limit. “Boo, take the Snarts and the other two back to the house. I got something to take care of, first.”  
  
“Mick,” Len started pulling away from the girls. It seemed he figured out what Mick was alluding to. “I can-”  
  
A hand on his chest stopped him. “You telling me, after all that, you’re gonna let your sister out of your sight like it’s nothing?” Len bristled and Mick smirked. “I got this. You make sure she’s alright.”  
  
Shawna looked between the two men, confused. Eventually she gave up trying to figure them out and grabbed Mick’s sleeve instead. “But, Mick- what about you?”  
  
“Come get me in ten minutes.” When she still hesitated, Mick gently untangled her hand from his sleeve. “Promise, Boo. Nothing’s gonna happen to me before then. Ten minutes, you come right to me, okay?”  
  
“Okay.” She reluctantly backed up, took Len and Lisa by the hand and disappeared.  
  
The runner stopped twitched- Mick wondered if there was a range to the spell or if teleporting cut it from the source of its power. He went over to the cocoon and crouched next to it, patting the bulge. “Don’t know if you can hear me,” he said conversationally, “but your kids are gone and they’re going to some place you’ll never, ever be able to get to them. And I’ll be making sure of that.” His hand ignited, the flames gradually catching on the runner. After a moment, the bulge began to move frantically. “Rot in hell, asshole.”  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
By the time Shawna brought Mick back to Len’s house, she was so worn out by the day that she curled up next to Mark and Hartley- both already asleep -and conked right out. During those ten minutes Mick had gotten anything that looked worthwhile from Lisa's room and burned down Lewis’s house, Lisa had washed up, ate a bit more and changed into some clean clothes- Len’s shirt and one of Shawna’s skirts and stockings. Between Mick and Len, they packed up what little was worth taking into the car along with the kids and made their way out of London and back towards Pepperinge Eye. Lisa fell asleep within the first twenty minutes.  
  
It wasn’t until they were out of the city and into open country that Mick said, “After three years you’d think you’d have something to say to each other.”  
  
Len scoffed. “Oh yes, I’ll talk to her all about my criminal exploits. Brilliant.”  
  
“What’s going to happen to that name, anyway? Whatever Browne.”  
  
“Someone will take it over eventually.” Len cupped his chin in his hand and leaned against the window. “When they realize I’ve gone missing.”  
  
“What do you plan to do?”  
  
“Dunno. It’s up to Lisa, really.” He twisted around to look back at her, the kids a jumbled pile of limbs in the backseat. “I just want her to be happy. Safe and happy. Though with the war going on, the safe part is a little more complicated.”  
  
Mick flickered his eyes over to Len briefly. “What about you?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“New start, right? Shouldn’t you be thinking about yourself, too?”  
  
Len looked at him, long and quiet, before turning away. “That might be a little complicated, too.”  
  
They stayed silent for the rest of the drive. It was well passed midnight when they got to Mick’s cottage, bringing the kids in, careful not to wake them. Mick help Len get the downstairs sofa set up for Lisa and brought out all the extra blankets so Len could make a nest for himself on the floor near her. Then Mick trudged his way upstairs and fell into his bed, not even bothering to take his boots off.  
  
In the morning he was woken up by laughter and the default screaming volume of children enjoying themselves. Mick clomped his way downstairs, still wearing the same clothes from the previous day, and stood blinking on his stoop. The kids were playing some kind of game that required a lot of running around and being noisy. Lisa was wearing another one of Len’s shirts, this one belted at the waist like a loose-fitting dress, hair plaited in a neat braid, ducking behind a tree as Hartley tried to catch her.  
  
“About time you woke up,” Len said, leaning against the wall nearby. “Just in time to make brunch.”  
  
“You know you could make something for them to eat, too, right?” Mick’s voice was still gruff and low from sleep. He didn’t miss the way Len parted and licked his lips at the sound of it.  
  
“I’m sure you remember my last attempt at cooking.” He pushed away from the wall, turning to stand just a little too close to Mick. “I picked up some groceries in town, by the way.”  
  
Mick frowned at that. “How’d you explain you being here?”  
  
“You were out picking some things up from a nearby town for the kids, found me and my sister with our car overturned in a ditch and gave us a lift since it was starting to get dark.” Len smirked. “I was surprised how many people were quick to tell me that you’re not nearly as scary as you look.”  
  
Mick was taken aback. “What?”  
  
“I guess your secret mushy center is pretty well known. The grocer gave me some extra vegetables since you’ve got so many mouths to feed, now. And a lady that overheard how we lost almost all our luggage offered to make Lisa some new clothes for a very reasonable price. Which is fortunate, given Lisa's outgrown most of her old clothes.”  
  
He was still reeling from Len’s previous statement. As far as he could tell, no one in town really cared for him. Sure, he’d help out if anyone asked him but Mick had never been anyone’s go-to guy. “Huh. Okay. You gonna help me with brunch then? Improve your shoddy skills.”  
  
“You should ask Lisa.” Len said, looking back over the lawn where the kids were now all sprawled on their backs, laughing between panting. “Doubt she’s had many opportunities to cook. Good skill for her to learn.”  
  
Mick stared hard at his profile. “Lemme guess, you’re going to find somewhere else to be so you won’t have to talk to her.”  
  
“I told that very generous woman I’d give her Lisa’s measurements later and there’s really no better time than the present.” Len gave him a cheeky smirk like he wasn’t running away from the accusation. “I’ll be back in time for brunch.”  
  
Mick watched him strut off with a scowl before going over to the kids with large, quick strides. “Lisa,” he called out, “you’re helping me cook so get cleaned up.” She sat up and frowned, looking over to where Len was walking off without a care in the world. She frowned harder. “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be back in a few. But if you want to eat, wash your hands and meet me in the kitchen.”  
  
When she hesitated, Shawna was quick to say, "Mick's a really good cook, it's a lot of fun helping him out!"  
  
"I know how to light a pilot light!" Hartley added before dutifully reciting, "But only if Mick is there to make sure I do it right."  
  
Lisa cast another, longing look look at her brother and Mick's voice gentled. "He'll be back, I promise." Lisa finally ducked her head and hurried inside. Once she was in the house, Mick pulled the others into a huddle. “I want you three to go with Len. Remind him that even though he saved her, if he doesn't start talking to Lisa, that makes him a bad brother. Okay?”  
  
They all nodded, faces set in the kind of comical determination only kids could do.  
  
Shawna grabbed Hartley's hand and starting reaching for Mark's, but Mick grabbed his shoulder instead. "I want a quick word with Wizard, first." The kids sent each other confused looks but Shawna teleported the two of them to Len. Mark looked like he was about to be grounded for life. “You still think I’m gonna be mad at you for shooting off lighting?”  
  
“You and Len said not to engage. Lots of times.” He scuffed his toe in the dirt. “But when I saw him with the gun and that you couldn’t do anything…”  
  
Mick ruffled his hair, a soft touch that momentarily threw the boy. “Mark, I ain’t mad. I can’t tell you to always do what I say because sometimes I’m wrong. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, even if someone tells you not to. The tough part is being able to tell when to do what you need to. You did good.”  
  
Mark beamed, puffing out his chest so much Mick thought he might strain something. “Thanks, Mick!”  
  
“Now go out there and pester the shit outta Len.”  
  
“Right!”  
  
Even if it was almost noon, Mick decided on a simple breakfast- both to get it ready quickly and to make it easy on Lisa. So while she mixed the pancake batter, Mick cut up some fruit to mix together. It took her two tries to figure out how to crack eggs- once was too hard, splattering it all over the place, the other she timidly tapped it against the edge of the counter, causing bits of shell to fall into the yolk when she finally cracked it open.  
  
After he instructed her to beat the batter and got the griddle ready, Lisa asked like she was talking about nothing of consequence, “You burned down my dad’s house, didn’t you?”  
  
Mick was about to ask how she knew but stopped to look down at himself. Still yesterday’s clothes, still with some soot and ash on it. “Yeah.”  
  
“Did you kill him?”  
  
“Yeah. Does that bother you?”  
  
“No.” She scowled at the batter she was mixing. “Wish he suffered more.”  
  
“I burned him alive,” Mick said helpfully.  
  
“Could’ve suffered more.”  
  
Well, that was certainly true. He watched her continue to scowl, mixing like the batter had offended her. “You pissed at your brother?”  
  
Lisa froze. “No. Why would I be?”  
  
“Cause he’s being a dick and avoiding you.”  
  
She all but slammed the bowl on the counter. “So I’m not imagining it! Why would he avoid me?”  
  
“He thinks you’re gonna hate him because of the things he’s done. And probably ‘cause he doesn’t know how to be anything but a crook.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous! I lived with dad all these years, and he was a crook, too!”  
  
Mick gave her a sideways look. “I think that’s part of the problem.”  
  
Lisa stood, looking at him blankly before the implication sorted itself out in her head. “That’s even  _more_  ridiculous! Lenny isn’t like dad! The fact he thinks he might be…  _ugh_! He’s an idiot!”  
  
“Yup.” Mick popped the ‘p’. “You should force him to talk to you. Get it sorted out so I don’t have to keep dealing with it. And that batter’s already dead, you can put it down now before you beat out the bottom of the bowl.”  
  
“Oh, sorry.”  
  
Throughout breakfast, all the kids kept giving Len venomous looks while Len kept giving Mick darkly unamused looks. Mick ignored them all- he did his part in all this bullshit, he didn’t need to do anything more. After, Len sent the kids to play outside. “But not too far,” he added before any of them could protest, “in case I need to call one of you.”  
  
Four pairs of eyes slid over to Mick. “Go on out,” he told them. “Try teaching Lisa some of that sign language.”  
  
They still huffed and dragged their feet but obediently went out. When the door closed, Len brought the last of the dishes to the sink where Mick was washing up. “Did you tell your kids to guilt me into talking to Lisa?”  
  
“Yup. Did it work?”  
  
“ _Yes_ , damn you.” Len growled, getting into Mick’s space and forcing Mick to turn toward him. “You’re going to pay for this, you know.”  
  
Mick just gave a low rumble of approval. “I hope so.” Mick loved the way those striking blue eyes went dark right before Len kissed him. Just as he moved in to do so, however, Mick put a hand to Len's chest, making him back up a step. “After you talk to Lisa.”  
  
Len scowled though his eyes were dancing playfully. “Fuck you, Rory.”  
  
“ _After_.”  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
It still took a while for Len and Lisa to stop being awkward around each other but the closer the siblings reconnected, the sunnier Lisa became until she'd charmed every single person in the entire town. And it made Len smile after her with such fondness that Mick couldn't help but just stare at him sometimes. He hadn't meant for anyone to notice- hell, Mick didn't even notice he was doing it, himself -but then Hartley came up to him one day with a mischievous grin.  
  
"What do you want, Piper?"  
  
"Do you have a crush on Len?"  
  
He shoved- gently -Hartley out the door. "Get outta here and go do kid stuff." Not an hour later, as he took a break from his garden, he found Hartley, Shawna and Mark with big, shit-eating grins signing, 'Mickey and Lenny, sitting in a tree' until Mick signed back at them, 'I'll dig a well and throw you down it'.  
  
Then, because of course that wasn't the end of it, while Len was washing the dishes after dinner, Lisa leaned in close to Mick and said, "It'd be okay if it's you. In fact, I think it'd be pretty great."  
  
Mick glanced at Len's back, the man's humming just barely audible over the running water, and cursed to himself for getting caught up in the way the low light fell over Len's profile every time he turned. "Fucking kids," he muttered, not missing the devilish grin on Lisa'd face as he got up to hide in his workshop.  
  
A week passed with Mick barely even noticing, too busy setting up makeshift walls so Lisa could have her own room- which Shawna quickly moved into, the two girls becoming fast friends -and fixing the parts of his garden that suffered during his absence, cooking, teaching Lisa what he could about magic- which the other children also listened in on, still hoping they could use it without Mick’s enchantments -from his and Lisa's books, and preparing a place for Clyde to stay when he was finally given the okay to move out to Pepperinge Eye. Mick wondered if he should just fence some stuff from his stash and make an add-on to the cottage. When Len saw what he had, his eyes brightened and he swore to Mick he knew people that would  _beg_  to pay a small fortune for certain pieces. Which was good because Mick wasn't certain how he'd be able to get to his usual fence with kids running around and those guys were the type Mick  _absolutely_  didn't want his kids near. Thank God for Len who was as clever and useful as he was absolutely maddening, whether it be from the way he grinned to how he looked when absorbed in a book or taking care of the children or sometimes just being in the same room as Mick.  
  
He was happy. Mick was, for the first time in years, genuinely happy. Which meant that it wasn’t going to last because it never did. Something was going to go wrong.  _He_  was going to do something wrong and the kids would hate him or think he wasn’t worth their time anymore. They’d leave him.  _Len_  would leave him- he and his sister had a brand new start, they could go anywhere, why would they waste it in a tiny little town like this? Mick found himself going back to that area out back with the burnt trees, lighting up his hands to stare at the flames. Something he hadn’t done since before his kids came.  
  
He knew the others noticed. They tried talking to him, tried getting him involved in what they were doing but it made Mick feel pathetic. One day they’d notice how desperate and lonely he really was and leave, disgusted with him. God, he wanted them all to stay so much sometimes he had trouble letting them out of his sight. Some days, when Len gave him sidelong looks like he was trying to work out how to get Mick to talk, Mick wanted to tell him to leave. Just take the kids and go some place where Mick wouldn’t be able to ruin everything for them.  
  
Len finally cornered him one afternoon in the kitchen, arms crossed and back straight yet looking oddly vulnerable. "You know, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”  
  
Mick, who’d been expecting a heart-to-heart, mentally braced himself. “About what?”  
  
“My dad. You didn't have to kill him."  
  
Of all the conversation starters, that wasn’t one he’d been expecting. “What do you mean, did you  _want_  him to live?”  
  
"No, I’m just saying I could've done it. Wouldn't have been the first person I've killed." Len snorted, looking away. "God knows how many I've killed because of him."  
  
"Maybe that's why I didn't want you to do it." Mick leaned against the counter, defensive in reaction to Len's vulnerability. "You and your sister dirtied your hands enough for the man, no sense getting his blood on 'em, too."  
  
Len's eyes were sharp and piercing and Mick turned away, unable to stand up to them. "Why do you care?"  
  
"I know what it's like, the weight you carry after. You said yourself, he hated you enough he would’ve killed Lisa just to hurt you. If you kill your old man, it would've been one more scar he left on you. But he's no one to me. In a couple months, I'll probably forget all about it, but if you did it, you'd have that memory in your head forever. This way, he doesn't get to win over you one last time."  
  
" _Mick_." A hand was suddenly on Mick's shoulder and another on his cheek, turning him around so lips could claim his own. It was a searing kiss, full of all sorts of emotions that whirled around Mick dizzingly until Len pulled away, peppering quick little kisses over his cheeks and lips and jaw. "How are you real? Like everything I ever wanted in a gorgeous package."  
  
That was the most terrifying and uplifting thing anyone had ever told him and Mick had to grab Len's jacket to keep upright. "Will you," Mick licked his lips, "are you staying?"  
  
"Lisa and I don't exactly have anywhere else to go at the moment." But his expression softened as he searched Mick's face, seeing something trembling, something afraid of hoping. "Why are you looking at me like that?"  
  
"I didn't... people don't really  _want_  to be around me. Even Miss Price sometimes didn't." He was pretty sure, anyway. She only took him in to help him control his magic and over the years they may have developed a rapport but she tended to be distant and wasn't always patient and even towards the end, on his worst days, for all that she let him have free reign over the cottage, Mick still wasn't certain if she liked him. Then again she also once told him he could get so stuck in his own head he couldn't see what was going on around him. Maybe this was one of those times- he did misread his standing among the other townsfolk, after all. "Just kinda figured I didn't... I dunno. Deserve to be happy." Not after he killed his family.  
  
Len's eyes were dark and intense while his hand remained a gentle pressure on Mick's cheek. "You deserve it," he said so earnestly that Mick almost believed him. "And I'll say it every day if I have to. You deserve to be happy and you deserve everything in the world and I will do whatever it takes to give it to you whatever you want."  
  
For a moment Mick's breath was knocked out of him. His trembling hands tightened on Len's jacket, drawing him in ever closer and his voice was tentative as he tried to joke, "Say things like that, Lenny, and I'll think you've fallen in love with me."  
  
Len hummed, nuzzling Mick's cheek lightly. "Pretty sure I wouldn't mind if I did."  
  
"Pretty sure I wouldn't, either."  
  
"If I fell in love with you or if you fell in love with me?"  
  
Mick huffed, resting their foreheads together and smiling at the thought. "Both."  
  
"Good." Gently, Len pried Mick's hands off, using them to draw the man towards the stairs. "I think the kids can deal with lunch themselves, why don't we continue this discussion upstairs?"  
  
"Whatever you say, Lenny."


End file.
